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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


APPLETONS'  POPULAR  LIBRARY 

OF  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 


THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


THE 


YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


BY 


WILLIAM  M.  THACKERAY, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  PARIS  SKETCH-BOOK,"  "VANITY  FAIR,"  "PENDENNIS,"  ETC. 


NEW-YORK  : 

D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BROADWAY. 

M.DCCC.LII. 


A 


PR 

PUBLISHER'S  ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  Yellowplush  Papers,  a  work  at  the 
foundation  of  Mr.  Thackeray's  fame  as  a  writer, 
appeared  in  a  London  edition  in  1841,  collected 
from  the  pages  of  Eraser's  Magazine,  and  edited 
by  Mr.  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh,  the  author's 
well-known  nom  de  plume.  An  imperfect  collec- 
tion, long  since  out  of  print,  had  previously  been 
published  in  Philadelphia. 

It  is  now  revived,  in  connection  with  a  number 
of  the  author's  miscellaneous  writings,  which  will 
appear  in  due  succession,  for  its  speciality  of 
thought  and  character,  and  its  exhibition  of  those 
fruitful  germs  of  sentiment  and  observation  which 
have  expanded  into  the  pictures  of  modern  society, 
read  throughout  the  world  in  the  pages  of  "  Van- 
ity Fair"  and  "  Pendennis."  In  its  peculiar  line 
the  "  Yellowplush  Papers"  have  never  been  sur- 
passed. The  character  is  well  preserved,  and 
unique  as  the  spelling,  which  shows  that  there  is 
a  genius  even  for  cacography,  and  a  sentiment,  as 
well  as  a  hearty  laugh  in  a  wrong  combination  of 
letters.     It  is  impossible  to  resist  the  infelicities 

1501515 


PUBLISHER  S    ADVERTISEMENT. 


of  Mr.  Yellowplush.  His  humour,  too,  is  a  pretty 
serious  test  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  profit  as 
well  as  amusement  may  be  got  from  his  Epistles, 
justifying  the  remark  of  an  English  critic,  that 
"  notwithstanding  the  bad  spelling  and  mustard- 
coloured  unmentionables  of  Mr.  Yellowplush,  he 
is  fifty  times  more  of  a  gentleman  than  most  of 
his  masters." 


New- York,  March,  1852. 


CONTENTS. 


TAQK. 


miss  situm's  husband 9 

the  amours  of  mr.  deuoeace  ....  35 

skimmings  from  "  the  dairy  of  george  iv."       .  57 

foring  parts 74 

mr.  deauceace  at  paris               ....  88 

mr.  yellowpltjsh's  ajew            .         .         .         .  177 

epistles  to  the  literati 198 


PAPERS  BY  MR.  YELLOWPLUSH, 


SOMETIME 


FOOTMAN  IN  MANY  GENTEEL  FAMILIES. 


I. 
MISS  SHUM'S  HUSBAND. 

CHAPTER  I. 

I  was  born  in  the  year  one,  of  the  present  or  Christian 
hera,  and  am,  in  consquints,  seven-and-thirty  years  old. 
My  mamma  called  me  Charles  Edward  Harrington 
Fitzroy  Yellowplush,  in  compliment  to  several  noble  fa- 
milies, and  to  a  sellybrated  coachmin  whom  she  knew, 
who  wore  a  yellow  livry,  and  drove  the  Lord  Mayor  of 
London. 

Why  she  gev  me  this  genlmn's  name  is  a  diffiklty, 
or  rayther  the  name  of  a  part  of  his  dress ;  however, 
it's  stuck  to  me  through  life,  in  which  I  was,  as  it  were, 
a  footman  by  buth. 

Praps  he  was  my  father — though  on  this  subjict  I 
can't  speak  suttinly,  for  my  ma  wrapped  up  my  buth 
in  a  mistry.  I  may  be  illygitmit,  I  may  have  been 
changed  at  hubs  ;  but  I've  always  had  genlmnly  tastes 


10  THE     YEI.LOWPU'SH    PAPERS. 

through  life,  and  have  no  doubt  that  I  come  of  a  genl- 
niulv  oriffum. 

The  less  I  say  about  my  parint  the  better,  for  the 
dear  old  creature  was  very  good  to  me,  and,  I  fear,  had 
very  little  other  goodness  in  her.  Why,  I  can't  say ; 
but  I  always  passed  as  her  nevyou.  We  led  a  strange 
life;  sometimes  ma  was  dressed  in  sattn  and  rooge,  and 
sometimes  in  rags  and  dutt ;  sometimes  I  got  kisses, 
and  sometimes  kix ;  sometimes  gin,  and  sometimes 
shampang ;  law  bless  us  !  how  she  used  to  swear  at 
me,  and  cuddle  me ;  there  we  were,  quarrelling  and 
making  up,  sober  and  tipsy,  starving  and  guttling  by 
turns,  just  as  ma  got  money  or  spent  it.  But  let  me 
draw  ;i  vail  over  the  seen,  and  speak  of  her  no  more — 
its  'sfishant  for  the  public  to  know,  that  her  name  was 
Alisv  Montmorency,  and  we  lived  in  the  New  Cut. 

My  poor  mother  died  one  morning,  Hev'n  bless  her! 
and  I  was  left  alone  in  this  wide  wicked  wuld,  without 
so  much  money  as  would  buy  me  a  penny  roal  for  my 
brexfast.  But  there  was  some  amongst  our  naybours 
(;iiid  let  me  tell  you  there's  more  kindness  among  them 
poor  disreppytable  creaturs  than  in  half-a-dozen  lords 
or  barrynets)  who  took  pity  upon  poor  Sal's  orfin  (for 
they  bust  out  laffin  when  I  called  her  Miss  Montmor- 
ency), and  gev  me  bred  and  shelter.  I'm  afraid,  in 
spite  of  their  kindness,  that  my  morrils  wouldn't  have 
improved  if  I'd  stayed  long  among  'em.  But  a  benny- 
violent  genlmn  saw  me,  and  put  me  to  school.  The 
academy  which  I  went  to  was  called  the  Free  School  of 
3ain1  Bartholomew's  the  Less — the  young  genlmn  wore 
green  baize  coats,  yellow  leather  whatsisnames,  a  tin 
plate  "ii   the  left   harm,  and  a  cap  about  the  size  of  a 


miss  siium's   HUSBAND.  1] 

muffing.  I  stayed  there  sicks  years,  from  sicks,  that  is 
to  say,  till  my  twelth  year,  during  three  years  of  witch, 
I  distinguished  myself  not  a  little  in  the  musicle  way, 
for  I  bloo  the  bellus  of  the  church  horgin,  and  very  fine 
tunes  we  played  too. 

Well,  it's  not  worth  recounting  my  jewvenile  follies 
(what  trix  we  used  to  play  the  applewoman  !  and  how 
we  put  snuff  in  the  old  dark's  Prayer-book — my  eye  !) ; 
but  one  day,  a  genlmn  entered  the  school-room — it  was 
on  the  very  day  when  I  went  to  subtraxion — and  asked 
the  master  for  a  young  lad  for  a  servant.  They  pitched 
upon  me  glad  enough  ;  and  nex  day  found  me  sleeping 
in  the  skullery,  close  under  the  sink,  at  Mr.  Bago's 
country-house  at  Pentonwille. 

Bago  kep  a  shop  in  Smithfield  market,  and  drov  a 
taring  good  trade,  in  the  boil  and  Italian  way.  I've 
heard  him  say,  that  he  cleared  no  less  than  fifty  pounds 
every  year,  by  letting  his  front  room  at  hanging  time. 
His  winders  looked  right  opsit  Newgit,  and  many  and 
many  dozen  chaps  has  he  seen  hanging  there.  Laws 
was  laws  in  the  year  ten,  and  they  screwed  chap's  nex 
for  nex  to  nothmk.  But  my  bisniss  was  at  his  coun- 
try-house, where  I  made  my  first  ontray  into  fashnabl 
life.  I  was  knife,  errint,  and  stable-boy  then,  and  an't 
ashamed  to  own  it ;  for  my  men-its  have  raised  me  to 
what  I  am — two  livries,  forty  pound  a  year,  malt-licker, 
washin,  silk-stocking,  and  wax  candles — not  countin 
wails,  which  is  somethink  pretty  considerable  at  our 
house,  I  can  tell  you. 

I  didn't  stay  long  here,  for  a  suckmstance  happened 
which  got  me  a  very  different  situation.  A  handsome 
young  genlmn,  who  kep  a  tilbry,  and  a  ridin  hoss  at 


12  THE    VELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

livry,  wanted  a  tiger.  I  bid  at  once  for  the  place  ;  and, 
being  a  neat  tidy-looking  lad,  he  took  me.  Bago  gave 
me  a  character,  and  he  my  first  livry ;  proud  enough  I 
was  of  it,  as  you  may  fancy. 

My  new  master  had  some  business  in  the  city,  for 
bo  went  in  every  morning  at  ten,  got  out  of  his  tilbry  at 
the  Citty  Road,  and  had  it  waiting  for  him  at  six ; 
when,  if  it  was  summer,  he  spanked  round  into  the  Park, 
and  drove  one  of  the  neatest  turnouts  there.  Wery 
proud  I  was  in  a  gold  laced  hat,  a  drab  coat,  and  a 
red  weskit,  to  sit  by  his  side,  when  he  drove.  I  already 
began  to  ogle  the  gals  in  the  carridges,  and  to  feel  that 
longing  for  fashionabl  life  which  I've  had  ever  since. 
When  he  was  at  the  oppera,  or  the  play,  down  I  went 
to  skittles,  or  to  White  Condick  Gardens;  and  Mr. 
Frederick  Altamont's  young  man  was  somebody,  I  war- 
rant ;  to  be  sure  there  is  very  few  man-servants  at  Pen- 
tonwille,  the  poppylation  being  mostly  gals  of  all  work  : 
and  so,  though  only  fourteen,  I  was  as  much  a  man 
down  there,  as  if  I  had  been  as  old  as  Jerusalem. 

But  the  most  singular  thing  was,  that  my  master, 
who  was  such  a  gay  chap,  should  live  in  such  a  hole. 
He  had  only  a  ground-floor  in  John  Street — a  parlor 
and  a  bed-room.  I  slept  over  the  way,  and  only  came 
in  with  his  boots  and  brexfast  of  a  morning. 

The  house  he  lodged  in  belonged  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Shum.  They  were  a  poor  but  proliffic  couple,  who  had 
rented  the  place  for  many  years ;  and  they  and  their 
family  were  squeezed  in  it  pretty  tight,  I  can  tell  you. 

Shum  said  he  had  been  a  hofficer,  and  so  he  had. 
He  bad  been  a  Bub-deputy,  assistant,  vice-commissary, 
or  some  such  tliink ;  and,  as  I  hecrd  afterwards,  had 


miss  shcm's  husband.  13 

been  obliged  to  leave  on  account  of  bis  nervousness.  He 
was  sucb  a  coward,  tbe  fact  is,  tbat  be  was  considered 
dangerous  to  tbe  barmy,  and  sent  bome. 

He  bad  married  a  widow  Buckmaster,  wbo  bad 
been  a  Miss  Slamcoe.  Sbe  was  a  Bristol  gal ;  and  ber 
father  being  a  bankrup  in  tbe  tallow-cbandlering  way, 
left,  in  course,  a  pretty  bttle  sum  of  money.  A  thou- 
sand pound  was  settled  on  her ;  and  she  was  as  high 
and  mighty  as  if  it  had  been  a  millium. 

Buckmaster  died,  leaving  nothink ;  notbink  except 
four  ugly  daughters  by  Miss  Slamcoe :  and  her  forty 
found  a  year  was  rayther  a  narrow  income  for  one  of 
her  appytite  and  pretensions.  In  an  unlucky  hour  for 
Slmm  she  met  him.  He  was  a  widower  with  a  Uttle 
daughter  of  three  years  old,  a  Uttle  house  at  Penton- 
wille,  and  a  little  income  about  as  big  as  her  own.  I 
believe  sbe  bullyd  the  poor  creature  into  marriage ;  and 
it  was  agreed  that  be  should  let  his  ground-floor  at 
John  Street,  and  so  add  somethink  to  their  means. 

They  married ;  and  the  widow  Buckmaster  was  the 
gray  mare,  I  can  tell  you.  She  was  always  talking  and 
blustering  about  her  famly,  the  celebrity  of  the  Buck- 
masters,  and  the  antickety  of  the  Slamcoes.  They  had 
a  six-roomed  house  (not  counting  bitching  and  sculry), 
and  now  twelve  daughters  in  all ;  whizz. — 4  Miss  Buck- 
masters  :  Miss  Betsy,  Miss  Dosy,  Miss  Biddy,  and  Miss 
Winny;  1  Miss  Shum,  Mary  by  name,  Sbum's  daugh- 
ter, and  seven  others,  who  shall  be  nameless.  Mrs. 
Shum  was  a  fat,  red-haired  woman,  at  least  a  foot  taller 
than  S.,  who  was  but  a  yard  and  a  half  high,  pale-faced, 
red-nosed,  knock-kneed,  bald-beaded,  his  nose  and  shut- 
frill  all  brown  with  snuff. 


14  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

Before  the  house  was  a  little  garden,  where  the 
washin  of  the  famly  was  all  ways  hanging.  There  was 
so  many  of  'em  that  it  was  obliged  to  be  done  by  relays. 
There  was  six  rails  and  a  stocking  on  each,  and  four 
small  goosbry  bushes,  always  covered  with  some  bit  of 
lining  or  other.  The  hall  was  a  regular  puddle ;  wet 
dabs  of  dishclouts  flapped  in  your  face ;  soapy  smoking 
bits  of  flanning  went  nigh  to  choke  you ;  and  while  you 
were  looking  up  to  prevent  hanging  yourself  with  the 
ropes  which  were  strung  across  and  about,  slap  came 
the  hedge  of  a  pail  against  your  shins,  till  one  was  like 
to  be  drove  mad  with  hagony.  The  great  slattnly  dod- 
dling  girls  was  always  on  the  stairs,  poking  about  with 
nasty  flower-pots,  a-cooking  something,  or  sprawling  in 
the  window-seats  with  greasy  curl-papers,  reading  grea- 
sy novls.  An  infernal  pianna  was  jingling  from  morn- 
ing till  night — two  eldest  Miss  Buckmasters  "  Battle  of 
Prag" — six  youngest  Miss  Shums,  "  In  my  cottage,"  till 
I  knew  every  note  in  the  "  Battle  of  Prag,"  and  cussed 
the  day  when  "  In  my  cottage"  was  rote.  The  younger 
girls,  too,  were  always  bouncing  and  thumping  about 
the  house,  with  torn  pinnyfores,  and  dogs-eard  gram- 
mar*, and  large  pieces  of  bread  and  treacle.  I  never  see 
such  a  house. 

As  for  Mis.  Shum,  she  was  such  a  fine  lady,  that 
she  did  nothink  but  lay  on  the  drawing-room  sophy, 
read  novels,  drink,  scold,  scream,  and  go  into  hystarrix. 
Little  Shum  kep  reading  an  old  newspaper  from  weeks' 
end  to  weeks'  end,  when  lift  was  not  engaged  in  teach- 
in  the  children,  or  goin  for  the  beer,  or  cleanin  the  shoes, 
for  tin  v  kep  no  servant.  This  house  in  John  Street  was 
in  short  a  regular  Pandymony. 


Miss    shim's    HUSBAND.  15 

Wheat  could  have  brought  Mr.  Frederic  Altamont 
to  dwell  in  such  a  place  ?  The  reason  is  hobvius  :  he 
adoared  the  fust  Miss  Shum. 

And  suttnly  he  did  not  shew  a  bad  taste,  for  though 
the  other  daughters  were  as  ugly  as  their  hideous  ma, 
Mary  Shum  was  a  pretty,  little,  pink,  modest  creatur, 
with  glossy  black  hair  and  tender  blue  eyes,  and  a  neck 
as  white  as  plaster  of  Parish.  She  wore  a  dismal  old 
black  gownd,  which  had  grown  too  short  for  her,  and 
too  tight ;  but  it  only  served  to  shew  her  pretty  angles 
and  feet,  and  bewchus  figger.  Master,  though  he  had 
looked  rather  low  for  the  gal  of  his  art,  had  certainly 
looked  in  the  right  place.  Never  was  one  more  pretty 
or  more  hamiable.  I  gav  her  always  the  buttered  toast 
left  from  our  brexfast,  and  a  cup  of  tea  or  chocklate  as 
Altamont  might  fancy ;  and  the  poor  thing  was  glad 
enough  of  it,  I  can  vouch ;  for  they  had  precious  short 
commons  up  stairs,  and  she  the  least  of  all. 

For  it  seemed  as  if  which  of  the  Shum  famly  should 
try  to  snub  the  poor  thing  most.  There  was  the  four 
Buckmaster  gals  always  at  her.  It  was,  Mary,  git  the 
coal-skittle  ;  Mary  run  down  to  the  public-house  for  the 
beer ;  Mary,  I  intend  to  wear  your  clean  stockens  out 
walking,  or  your  new  bonnet  to  church.  Only  her 
poor  father  was  kind  to  her ;  and  he,  poor  old  muff ! 
his  kindness  was  of  no  use.  Mary  bore  all  the  scold- 
ing like  an  angel,  as  she  was  ;  no,  not  if  she  had  a  pair 
of  wings  and  a  goold  trumpet,  -jould  she  have  been  a 
greater  angel. 

I  never  shall  forgit  one  seen  that  took  place.  It  was 
when  master  was  in  the  city ;  and  so,  having  nothink 
earthly  to  d>>,  I  happened  t<">  be  listening  on  the  stairs. 


16  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

The  old  scolding  was  a-going  on,  and  the  old  tune  of 
that  hojus  "  Battle  of  Prag."  Old  Shum  made  some 
remark ;  and  Miss  Buckmaster  cried  out,  "  Law  pa ! 
what  a  fool  you  are  !"  All  the  gals  began  laffin,  and 
so  did  Mrs.  Shum  ;  all,  that  is,  excep  Mary,  who  turned 
as  red  as  flams,  and  going  up  to  Miss  Betsy  Buckmaster, 
give  her  two  such  wax  on  her  great  red  ears  as  made 
them  tinjjle  again. 

Old  Mrs.  Shum  screamed,  and  ran  at  her  like  a 
Bengal  tiger.  Her  great  arms  went  weeling  about  like 
a  vinmill,  as  she  cuffed  and  thumped  poor  Mary  for 
taking  her  pa's  part.  Mary  Shum,  who  was  always 
a-crying  before,  didn't  shed  a  tear  now.  I  will  do  it 
again,  she  said,  if  Betsy  insults  my  father.  New  thumps, 
new  shreex  !  and  the  old  horridan  went  on  beatin  the 
poor  girl,  till  she  was  quite  exosted,  and  fell  down  on 
the  sophy,  puffin  like  a  poppus. 

"  For  shame,  Mary,"  began  old  Shum  :  "  for  shame, 
you  naughty  gal,  you  !  for  hurting  the  feelings  of  your 
dear  mamma,  and  beating  kind  sister." 

"  Why,  it  was  because  she  called  you  a — " 

"  If  she  did,  you  pert  miss,"  said  Shum,  looking 
mighty  dignitified,  "  I  could  correct  her,  and  not  you." 
"  You  correct  me,  indeed  !"  said  Miss  Betsy,  turning 
up  her  nose,  if  possible,  higher  than  before  ;  "  I  should 
like  to  see  you  erect  me !  Imperence !"  and  they  all 
began  laffin  again. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  S.  had  recovered  from  the  effex 
of  her  fxsize,  and  she  began  to  pour  in  her  wolly.  Fust, 
she  called  Mary  names,  then  Shum. 

"  O  why,"  screeched  she,  "  why  did  I  ever  leave  a 
genteel  famly,  where  I  ad  every  ellygance  and  lucksry, 


miss  shum's  husband.  17 

to  marry  a  creature  like  this  ?  He  is  unfit  to  be  called 
a  map,  he  is  unworthy  to  marry  a  gentlewoman  ;  and 
as  for  that  hussy,  I  disown  her  !  Thank  Heaven  she  ant 
a  Slamcoe  ;  she  is  only  fit  to  he  a  Shum  !" 

"  That's  true,  mamma,"  said  all  the  gals,  for  their 
mother  had  taught  them  this  pretty  piece  of  manners, 
and  they  despised  their  father  heartily  ;  indeed,  I  have 
always  remarked  that,  in  families  where  the  wife  is  in- 
ternally talking  about  the  merits  of  her  branch,  the  hus- 
band is  invariably  a  spooney. 

Well,  when  she  was  exosted  again,  down  she  fell  on 
the  sofy,  at  her  old  trix — more  skreeching — more  con- 
vulshuns — and  she  wouldn't  stop,  this  time,  till  Shum 
had  got  her  half  a  pint  of  her  old  remedy,  from  the 
Blue  Lion  over  the  way.  She  grew  more  easy  as  she 
finished  the  gin  ;  but  Mary  was  sent  out  of  the  room, 
and  told  not  to  come  back  agin  all  day. 

"  Miss  Mary,"  says  1, — for  my  heart  yurned  to  the 
poor  gal,  as  she  came  sobbing  and  misrable  down  stairs ; 
"  Miss  Mary,"  says  I,  "  If  I  might  make  so  bold,  here's 
master's  room  empty,  and  I  know  where  the  cold  bif 
and  pickles  is."  "  O  Charles  !"  said  she,  nodding  her 
head  sadly,  "  I'm  too  retched  to  have  any  happytite  ;" 
and  she  flung  herself  on  a  chair,  and  began  to  cry  fit  to 
bust. 

At  this  moment,  who  should  come  in  but  my  mas- 
ter. I  had  taken  hold  of  Miss  Mary's  hand,  somehow, 
and  do  believe,  I  should  have  kist  it,  when,  as  I  said, 
Haltamont  made  his  appearance.  "  What's  this  ?"  cries 
he,  lookin  at  me  as  black  as  thunder,  or  as  Mr.  Phillips 
as  Hickit,  in  the  new  tragedy  of  Mac  Buff. 

"  It's  only  Miss  Mary,  sir,"  answered  I. 


18  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

"  Get  out  sir,"  says  he,  as  fierce  as  posbil,  and  I  felt 
soinethink  (  I  think  it  was  the  tip  of  his  to)  touching 
me  behind,  and  found  myself,  nex  minit,  sprawling 
among  the  wet  flannings,  and  buckets  and  things. 

The  people  from  up  stairs  came  to  see  what  was  the 
matter,  as  I  was  cussin  and  crying  out.  "It's  only 
Charles,  ma,"  screamed  out  Miss  Betsy. 

"  Where's  Mary  ?"  says  Mrs.  Shum,  from  the  sofy. 

"  She's  in  master's  room,  miss,"  said  I. 

"  She's  in  the  lodger's  room,  ma,"  cries  Miss  Shum, 
keckoing  me. 

"  Very  good ;  tell  her  to  stay  there  till  he  comes 

back."     And  then,  Miss  Shum  went  bouncing  up  the 

stairs  again,  little  knowing  of  Haltamont's  return. 
***** 

I'd  long  before  observed  that  my  master  had  an 
anchoring  after  Mary  Shum  ;  indeed,  as  I  have  said,  it 
was  purely  for  her  sake  that  he  took  and  kep  his  lodg- 
ings at  Pentonwille.  Excep  for  the  sake  of  love  which 
is  above  being  mersnary,  fourteen  shillings  a  wick  was 
a  little  too  strong  for  two  such  rat-holes  as  he  lived  in. 
I  do  blieve  the  family  had  nothing  else  but  their  lodger 
to  live  on :  they  brekfistcd  off  his  tea-leaves,  they  cut 
away  pounds  and  pounds  of  meat  from  his  jints  (he  al- 
ways dined  at  home),  and  his  baker's  bill  was  at  least 
enough  fur  six.  But  that  wasn't  my  business.  I  saw 
him  grin,  sometimes,  when  I  laid  down  the  cold  bif  of 
a  morning,  to  see  how  little  was  left  of  yesterday's  sir- 
line  ;  but  he  never  said  a  syllabub ;  for  true  love  don't 
mind  a  pound  of  meat  or  so  hextra. 

At  first,  he  was  very  kind  an  attentive  to  all  the 
gals;     Mi--    I'xtsy,    in    part  ickler,  grew  mighty  fond  of 


miss  shum's  husband.  IS 

him ;  they  sate,  for  whole  evenings,  playing  cribbitch, 
he  taking  his  pipe  and  glas,  she  her  tea  and  muffing ; 
but  as  it  was  improper  for  her  to  come  alone,  she  brought 
one  of  her  sisters,  and  this  was  genrally  Mary, — for  he 
made  a  pint  of  asking  her,  too, — and  one  day,  when  one 
of  the  others  came  instead,  he  told  her,  very  quitely, 
that  he  hadn't  invited  her ;  and  Miss  Buckmaster  was 
too  fond  of  muffings  to  try  this  game  on  again  ;  besides, 
she  was  jealous  of  her  three  grown  sisters,  and  consid- 
ered Mary  as  only  a  child.  Law  bless  us !  how  she 
used  to  ogle  him,  and  quot  bits  of  pottry,  and  play 
"  Meet  me  by  moonlike,"  on  an  old  gitter ;  she  reglar 
flung  herself  at  his  head,  but  he  wouldn't  have  it,  bein 
better  ockypied  elsewhere. 

One  night,  as  genteel  as  possible,  he  brought  home 
tickets  for  Ashley's,  and  proposed  to  take  the  two  young 
ladies — Miss  Betsy,  and  Miss  Mary,  in  course.  I  reck- 
lect  he  called  me  aside  that  afternoon,  assuming  a  sola- 
mon  and  misterus  hare,  "  Charles,"  said  he,  "  are  you  up 
to  muff?11 

"  Why  sir,"  said  I,  "  I'm  genrally  considered  tolela- 
bly  downy." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  I'll  give  you  half  a  suffering  if 
you  can  manage  this  bisniss  for  me ;  I've  chose  a  rainy 
night  on  purpus.  When  the  theatre  is  over,  you  must 
be  waitin  with  two  umbrellows ;  give  me  one,  and  hold 
the  other  over  Miss  Shum ;  and,  hark  ye,  sir,  turn  to 
the  right  when  you  leave  the  theatre,  and  say  the  coach 
is  ordered  to  stand  a  little  way  up  the  street,  in  order  to 
get  rid  of  the  crowd." 

We  went  (in  a  fly  hired  by  Mr.  H.),  and  never  shall 
I  forgit  Cartliche's  hacting  on   that  memrable  night. 


20  THE    I'ELLOWPLUSH    PA1JKKS. 


Talk  of  Kimble !  talk  of  Magreedy !  Ashley's  for  my 
money,  with  Cartlitch  in  the  principal  part.  But  tliis 
is  nothink  to  the  porpus.  When  the  play  was  over,  I 
was  at  the  door  with  the  umbrellos.  It  was  raining 
cats  and  dogs,  sure  enough. 

Mr.  Altamont  came  out  presently,  Miss  Mary  under 
his  arm,  and  Miss  Betsy  followin  behind,  rayther  sulky. 
"  This  way,  sir,"  cries  I,  pushin  forward ;  and  I  threw 
a  great  cloak  over  Miss  Betsy,  fit  to  smother  her. 
Mr.  A.  and  Miss  Mary  skipped  on,  and  was  out  of 
sight  when  Miss  Betsy's  cloak  was  settled,  you  may  be 

sure. 

"  They're  only  gone  to  the  fly,  miss.  It's  a  little 
way  up  the  street,  away  from  the  crowd  of  carriages." 
And  oft'  we  turned  to  the  right,  and  no  mistake. 

After  marchin  a  little  through  the  plash  and  mud, 
"  Has  anybody  seen  Coxy's  fly  ?"  cries  I,  with  the  most 
innocent  haxent  in  the  world. 

"  Cox's  fly  !"  hollows  out  one  chap.  "  Is  it  the  vag- 
gin  you  want  ?"  says  another.  "  I  see  the  blackin  wan 
pass,"  giggles  out  another  genlmn  ;  and  there  was  such 
an  interchange  of  complimints  as  you  never  heerd.  I 
pass  them  over  though,  because  some  of  'em  were  not 
wery  genteel. 

"  Law,  miss,"  said  I,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  My  master 
will  never  forgive  me  :  and  I  haven't  a  single  sixpence 
to  pay  a  coach."  Miss  Betsy  was  just  going  to  call  one 
when  I  said  that,  but  the  coachman  wouldn't  have  it 
at  that  price,  he  said,  and  I  knew  very  well  that  she 
hadn't  four  or  five  shillings  to  pay  for  a  wehicle.  So, 
in  the  midst  of  that  tarin  rain,  at  midnight,  we  had  to 
walk  four  miles,  from  Westminster   Bridge  to  Penton- 


miss  shum's  husband.  21 

wille ;  and,  what  was  wuss,  /  didn't  happen  to  know  the 
way.     A  very  nice  walk  it  was,  and  no  mistake. 

At  about  half-past  two,  we  got  safe  to  John  Street. 
My  Master  was  at  the  garden  gate.  Miss  Mary  flew  into 
Miss  Betsy's  arms,  whil  master  began  cussin  and  swear- 
in  at  me  for  disobeying  his  orders,  and  turning  to  the 
right  instead  of  to  the  left !  Law  bless  me  !  his  acting 
of  anger  was  very  near  as  natral  and  as  terrybl  as  Mr. 
Cartlich's  in  the  play. 

They  had  waited  half  an  hour,  he  said,  in  the  fly,  in 
the  little  street  at  the  left  of  the  theatre ;  they  had  drove 
up  and  down  in  the  greatest  fright  possible ;  and  at  last 
came  home,  thinking  it  was  in  vain  to  wait  any  more. 
They  gave  her  'ot  rum  and  water  and  roast  oysters  for 
supper,  and  this  consoled  her  a  little. 

I  hope  nobody  will  cast  an  imputation  on  Miss  Mary 
for  her  share  in  this  adventer,  for  she  was  as  honest  a 
gal  as  ever  lived,  and  I  do  believe  is  hignorant  to  this 
day  of  our  little  strattygim.  Besides,  all's  fair  in  love; 
and,  as  my  master  could  never  get  to  see  her  alone,  on 
account  of  her  infernal  eleven  sisters  and  ma,  he  took 
this  opportunity  of  expressin  his  attachment  to  her. 

If  he  was  in  love  with  her  before,  you  may  be  sure 
she  paid  it  him  back  again  now.  Ever  after  the  night 
at  Ashley's,  they  were  as  tender  as  two  tuttle-doves — 
which  fully  accounts  for  the  axdent  what  happened  to 
me,  in  being  kicked  out  of  the  room ;  and  in  course  I 
bore  no  mallis. 

I  don't  know  whether  Miss  Betsy  still  fancied  that 
my  master  was  in  love  with  her,  but  she  loved  muffings 
and  tea,  and  kem  down  to  his  parlor  as  much  as  ever. 

Now  comes  the  sing'lar  part  of  my  history. 


22  THE    YELLOWPLCSH    PAPERS. 


CHAPTER   IL 

But  who  was  this  genlmn  with  a  fine  name — Mr. 
Frederic  Altamont  ?  or  what  was  he  ?  The  most  mys- 
terus  genlmn  that  ever  I  knew.  Once  I  said  to  him,  on  a 
wery  rainy  day,  "  Sir,  shall  I  bring  the  gig  down  to 
your  office  ?"  and  he  gave  me  one  of  his  black  looks, 
and  one  of  his  loudest  hoaths,  and  told  me  to  mind  my 
own  bizziness,  and  attend  to  my  orders.  Another  day, — 
it  was  on  the  day  when  Miss  Mary  slapped  Miss  Betsy's 
face, — Miss  M.,  who  adoared  him,  as  I  have  said  already, 
kep  on  asking  him  what  was  his  buth,  parentidg,  and 
ediccation.  "  Dear  Frederic,"  says  she,  "  why  this  mis- 
try  about  yourself  and  your  hactions  ?  why  hide  from 
your  little  Mary" — they  were  as  tender  as  this,  I  can 
tell  you — "  your  buth  and  your  professin  ?" 

I  spose  Mr.  Frederic  looked  black,  for  I  was  only 
listening,  and  he  said,  in  a  voice  agitated  by  a  motion, 
"  Mary,"  said  he,  "  if  you  love  me,  ask  me  this  no  more ; 
let  it  be  sfishnt  for  you  to  know  that  I  am  a  honest 
man,  and  that  a  secret,  what  it  would  be  misery  for  you 
to  lam,  must  hang  over  all  my  actions — that  is,  from 
ten  o'clock  till  six." 

They  went  on  chaffin  and  talking  in  this  melumcolly 
and  mysterus  way,  and  I  didn't  lose  a  word  of  what  they 
said,  for  them  houses  in  Pentonwill  have  only  walls  made 
of  pasteboard,  and  you  hear  rayther  better  outside  the 
room  than  in.  But,  though  he  kep  up  his  secret,  he 
swore  to  her  his  affektion  this  day  pint  blank.  Nothing 
should  prevent  him,  he  said,  from  leading  her  to  the 
halter,  from  makin  her  his  adoarable  wife.     After  this 


miss  shum's  husband.  23 

was  a  slight  silence.  "  Dearest  Frederic,"  mummered 
out  miss,  speakin  as  if  she  was  chokin,  "I  am  yours 
— yours  for  ever."  And  then  silence  agen,  and  one  or 
two  smax,  as  if  there  was  kissin  going  on.  Here  I 
thought  it  hest  to  give  a  rattle  at  the  door-lock ;  for,  as 
I  live,  there  was  old  Mrs.  Shum  a-walkin  down  the 
stairs  ! 

It  appears  that  one  of  the  younger  gals,  a  looking 
out  of  the  bed-rum  window,  had  seen  my  master  come 
in,  and  coming  down  to  tea  half  an  hour  afterwards,  said 
so  in  a  cussary  way.  Old  Mrs.  Shum,  who  was  a  dragon 
of  vertyou,  cam  hustling  down  the  stairs,  panting  and 
frowning,  as  fat  and  as  fierce  as  a  old  sow  at  feedin  time. 

"  Where's  the  lodger,  fellow  ?"  says  she  to  me. 

I  spoke  loud  enough  to  he  heard  down  the  street — 
"  If  you  mean,  ma'am,  my  master,  Mr.  Frederic  Alta- 
mont,  esquire,  he's  just  stept  in,  and  is  puttin  on  clean 
shoes  in  his  bed-room." 

She  said  nothink  in  answer,  but  flumps  past  me, 
and  opening  the  parlor-door,  sees  master  looking  very 
queer,  and  Miss  Mary  a  drooping  down  her  head  like  a 
pale  lily. 

"  Did  you  come  into  my  family,"  says  she,  "  to  cor- 
rupt my  daughters,  and  to  destroy  the  hinnocence  of 
that  infamous  gal  ?  Did  you  come  here,  sir,  as  a  se- 
ducer, or  only  as  a  lodger?  Speak,  sir,  speak!" — and 
she  folded  her  arms  quite  fierce,  and  looked  like  Mrs. 
Siddums  in  the  Tragic  Mews. 

"  I  came  here,  Mrs.  Shum,"  said  he,  "  because  1 
loved  your  daughter,  or  I  never  would  have  conde- 
scended to  live  in  such  a  beggarly  hole.  I  have  treated 
her  in  every  respeck  like  a  genlmn,  and  she  is  as  hiu- 


24  THE    YELLOWVLUSH    PAPERS. 

nocent  now,  mam,  as  she  was  when  she  was  born.  If 
she'll  many  me,  I  am  ready ;  if  she'll  leave  you,  she 
shall  have  a  home  where  she  shall  be  neither  bullyd 
nor  starved ;  no  hangry  frumps  of  sisters,  no  cross 
mother-in-law,  only  an  affeckshnat  husband,  and  all  the 
pure  pleasures  of  Hyming." 

Mary  flung  herself  into  his  arms — "  Dear,  dear 
Frederic,"  says  she,  "  I'll  never  leave  you." 

"  Miss,"  says  Mrs.  Shum,  "  you  ain't  a  Slamcoe  nor 
yet  a  Buckmaster,  thank  God.  You  may  marry  this 
person  if  your  pa  thinks  proper,  and  he  may  insidt  me 
— brave  me — trample  on  my  feelinx  in  my  own  house 
— and  there's  no-o-o-obody  by  to  defend  me." 

I  knew  what  she  was  going  to  be  at :  on  came  her 
histarrix  agen,  and  she  began  screechin  and  roarin  like 
mad.  Down  comes,  of  course,  the  eleven  gals  and  old 
Shum.  There  was  a  pretty  row.  "Look  here,  sir," 
says  she,  "  at  the  conduck  of  your  precious  trull  of  a 
daughter — alone  with  this  man,  kissin  and  dandlin,  and 
Lawd  knows  what  besides." 

"  What,  he  ?"  cries  Miss  Betsy — "  he  in  love  with 
Mary !  O,  the  wretch,  the  monster,  the  deceiver !" — 
and  she  falls  down  too,  screeching  away  as  loud  as  her 
mamma ;  for  the  silly  creature  fancied  still  that  Alta- 
mount  had  a  fondness  for  her. 

"  Silence  these  women  /"  shouts  out  Altamont,  thun- 
dering loud.  "I  love  your  daughter,  Mr.  Shum.  I 
will  take  her  without  a  penny,  and  can  afford  to  keep 
her.  If  you  don't  give  her  to  me,  she'll  come  of  her  own 
will.     Is  that  enough  ? — may  I  have  her  ?" 

"  "We'll  talk  of  this  matter,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Shum, 
looking  as  high  and  mighty  as  an  alderman.     "  Gals, 


miss  siium's  husband.  25 

go  up  stairs  with  your  dear  mamma." — And  they  all 
trooped  up  again,  and  so  the  skrimmage  ended. 

You  may  he  sure  that  old  Shum  was  not  very  sorry 
to  get  a  husband  for  his  daughter  Mary,  for  the  old 
creatur  loved  her  better  than  all  the  pack  which  had 
been  brought  him  or  born  to  him  bv  Mrs.  Buckmaster. 
But,  strange  to  say,  when  he  came  to  talk  of  settle- 
ments and  so  forth,  not  a  word  would  my  master  an- 
swer. He  said  he  made  four  hundred  a-year  reg'lar — 
he  wouldn't  tell  how — but  Mary,  if  she  married  him, 
must  share  all  that  he  had,  and  ask  no  questions ;  only 
this  he  would  say,  as  he'd  said  before,  that  he  was  a 
honest  man. 

They  were  married  in  a  few  days,  and  took  a  very 
genteel  house  at  Islington ;  but  still  my  master  went 
away  to  business,  and  nobody  knew  where.  Who 
could  he  be  ? 

CHAPTER  III 

If  ever  a  young  kipple  in  the  middlin  classes  began 
life  with  a  chance  of  happiness,  it  was  Mr.  and  Mrs, 
Frederick  Altamont.  There  house  at  Cannon  Row, 
Islington,  was  as  comforable  as  house  could  be.  Car- 
pited  from  top  to  to ;  pore's  rates  small ;  furnitur  ely- 
gant ;  and  three  deomestix,  of  which  I,  in  course,  was 
one.  My  life  wrasn't  so  easy  as  in  Mr.  A.'s  bachelor 
days  ;  but,  what  then  ?  The  three  Ws.  is  my  maxum  : 
plenty  of  work,  plenty  of  wittles,  and  plenty  of  wages. 
Altamont  kep  his  gig  no  longer,  but  went  to  the  city 
in  an  omlibuster. 

One  would  haw  thought,  T  say,  that  Mrs.  A.,  with 


26  THE    YEI.LOWl'LUSH    TAPERS. 

such  an  effeckshnut  husband,  might  have  been  as  happy 
as  her  blessid  majisty.  Nothink  of  the  sort.  For  the 
fust  six  months  it  was  all  very  well ;  but  then  she  grew 
gloomier  and  gloomier,  though  A.  did  everythink  in  life 
to  please  her. 

Old  Shum  used  to  come  reglarly  four  times  a  wick 
to  Cannon  Row,  where  he  lunched,  and  dined,  and 
teed,  and  supd.  The  poor  little  man  was  a  thought  too 
fond  of  wine  and  spirits ;  and  many  and  many's  the 
night  that  I've  had  to  support  him  home.  And  you 
may  be  sure  that  Miss  Betsy  did  not  now  desert 
her  sister ;  she  was  at  our  place  mornink,  noon,  and 
night,  not  much  to  mymayster's  liking,  though  he  was 
too  good  natured  to  wex  his  wife  in  trifles. 

But  Betsy  never  had  forgotten  the  recollection  of 
old  days,  and  hated  Altamont  like  the  foul  feind.  She 
put  all  kinds  of  bad  things  into  the  head  of  poor  inno- 
cent missis ;  who,  from  being  all  gaiety  and  cheerful- 
ness,  grew  to  be  quite  melumcolly  and  pale,  and 
retchid,  just  as  if  she  had  been  the  most  misrable  wo- 
man in  the  world. 

In  three  months  more,  a  baby  comes,  in  course,  and 
with  it  old  Mrs.  Shum,  who  stuck  to  Mrs.  side  as  close 
as  a  wampire,  and  made  her  retchider  and  retchider. 
She  used  to  bust  into  tears  when  Altamont  came 
home;  she  used  to  sigh  and  wheep  over  the  pore  child, 
and  say,  "My  child,  my  child,  your  father  is  false  to 
me;"  or,  "your  father  deceives  me;"  or,  "what  will 
you  do  when  your  poor  mother  is  no  more  ?"  or  such 
like  sentimental  stuff. 

It  all  came  from  Mother  Shum,  and  her  old  trix,  as 
I  soon  found  out.     The  fact  is,  when   there  is  a   niistry 


Miss   shim's   husband.  27 

of  this  kind  in  the  house,  its  a  servant's  duty  to  listen  ; 
and  listen  I  did,  one  day  when  Mrs.  was  cryin  as  usual, 
and  fat  Mrs.  Shum  a  sittin  consolin  her,  as  she  callol  it, 
though,  Heaven  knows,  she  only  grew  wuss  and  wuss 
for  the  consolation. 

Well,  I  listened ;  Mrs.  Shum  was  a  rockin  the  baby, 
and  missis  cryin  as  yousual. 

"  Pore  dear  innocint,"  says  Mrs.  S.,  heavin  a  great 
sigh,  "  you're  the  child  of  a  unknown  father,  and  a  mis- 
rabble  mother." 

"  Don't  speak  ill  of  Frederic,  mamma,"  says  missis ; 
"  he  is  all  kindness  to  me." 

"  All  kindness,  indeed !  yes,  he  gives  you  a  fine 
house,  and  a  fine  gownd,  and  a  ride  in  a  fly  whenever 
you  please ;  but  ivhere  does  all  his  money  come  from  ? 
Who  is  he — what  is  he  ?  Who  knows  that  he  mayn't 
be  a  murdrer,  or  a  housebreaker,  or  a  utterer  of  forged 
notes  ?  How  can  he  make  his  money  honestly,  when 
lie  won't  say  where  he  gets  it  ?  Why  does  he  leave 
you  eight  hours  every  blessid  day,  and  won't  say  where 
he  goes  to  ?  Oh,  Mary,  Mary,  you  are  the  most  injured 
of  women  !" 

And  with  this  Mrs.  Shum  began  sobbin  ;  and  Miss 
Betsy  began  yowling  like  a  cat  in  a  gitter ;  and  pore 
missis  cried,  too — tears  is  so  remarkable  infeckshus. 

"Perhaps,  mamma,"  wimpered  out  she,  "Frediic 
i>  a  shopboy,  and  don't  like  me  to  know  that  he  is  not 
a  gentleman." 

"  A  shopboy,"  says  Betsy  ;  "  he  a  shopboy  !  O  no, 
no,  no!  more  likely  a  wretched  willain  of  a  murderer, 
stabbin  and  robing  all  day,  and  feedin  you  with  the 
fruits  of  his  ill-gotten  games  !" 


28  THE    YELLOW  I'LUSH    I'APERS. 

More  eryin  and  screechin  here  took  place,  in  which 
the  baby  joined ;  and  made  a  very  pretty  consort,  I  can 
tell  you. 

"He  can't  be  a  robber,"  cries  missis;  "he's  too 
good,  too  kind,  for  that ;  besides,  murdering  is  done  at 
night,  and  Frederic  is  always  home  at  eight." 

"  But  he  can  be  a  forger,"  says  Betsy,  "  a  wicked, 
wicked  forger.  Why  does  he  go  away  every  day  8 
to  forge  notes,  to  be  sure.  Why  does  he  go  to  the  city  ? 
to  be  near  banks  and  places,  and  so  do  it  more  at  his 
convenience." 

"  But  he  brings  home  a  sum  of  money  every  day — 
about  thirty  shillings — sometimes  fifty ;  and  then  he 
smiles,  and  says  its  a  good  day's  work.  This  is  not  like 
a  forger,"  said  pore  Mrs.  A. 

"  I  have  it — I  have  it !"  screams  out  Mrs.  S.  "  The 
villain — the  sneaking,  double-faced  Jonas  !  he's  married 
to  somebody  else,  he  is,  and  that's  why  he  leaves  you, 
the  base  biggymist !" 

At  this,  Mr>.  Altamont,  struck  all  of  a  heap,  fainted 
clean  away.  A  dreadful  business  it  was — histarrix ; 
then  hystarrix,  in  course,  from  Mrs.  Shum  ;  bells  ringin, 
child  squalin,  suvvants  tearin  up  and  down  stairs  with 
hot  water !  If  ever  there  is  a  noosance  in  the  world, 
it's  a  bouse  where  faintin  is  always  goin  on.  I  woiddn't 
live  in  <»ne, — no,  not  to  be  groom  of  the  chambers,  and 
git  two  hundred  a  year. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  evenin  when  this  row  took 
place;  and  such  a  row  it  was,  that  nobody  but  me 
heard  master's  knock.  lb'  came  in,  and  heard  the  hoop- 
ing, and  screeching,  and  roaring.  He  seemed  very 
much  frightened  at  first,  and  said,  "  Wliat  is  it?" 


miss  shum's  husband.  29 

"Mrs.  Shum's  here,"  says  I,  "and  Mrs.  in  astarrix." 

Altamont  looked  as  black  as  thunder,  and  growled 
out  a  word  which  I  don't  like  to  name, — let  it  suffice 
that  it  begins  with  a  d  and  ends  with  a  nation  ;  and  he 
tore  up  stairs  like  mad. 

He  bust  open  the  bed-room  door ;  missis  lay  quite 
pale  and  stony  on  the  sofy  ;  the  babby  was  screech  in 
fr<»m  the  craddle  ;  Miss  Betsy  was  sprawlin  over  missis  ; 
and  Mrs.  Shum  half  on  the  bed  and  half  on  the  ground  ; 
all  howlin  and  squeelin,  like  so  many  dogs  at  the  moond. 

When  A.  came  in,  the  mother  and  daughter  stop- 
ped all  of  a  sudding.  There  had  been  one  or  two  tiffs 
before  between  them,  and  they  feared  him  as  if  he  had 
been  a  hogre. 

"  What's  this  infernal  screeching  and  crying  about  ?" 
says  he. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Altamont,"  cries  the  old  woman,  "you 
know  too  well ;  it's  about  you  that  this  darling  child  is 
misrabble !" 

M  And  why  about  me,  pray,  madam  }" 

"Why,  sir,  dare  you  ask  why  \  Because  you  de- 
ceive her,  sir ;  because  you  are  a  false,  cowardly  traitor, 
sir ;  because  you  have  a  wife  elsewhere,  sir  /"  And  the 
old  lady  and  Miss  Betsy  began  to  roar  again  as  loud  as 
ever. 

Altamont  pawsed  for  a  minnit,  and  then  flung  the 
door  wide  open  ;  nex  he  seized  Miss  Betsy  as  if  his  hand 
were  a  vice,  and  he  world  her  out  of  the  room  ;  then  up 
he  goes  to  Mrs.  S.  "  Get  up,"  says  he,  thundering  loud, 
"  you  lazy,  trollopping,  mischief-making,  lying  old  fool ! 
Get  up,  and  get  out  of  this  house.  You  have  been  the 
cuss  and  bain  of  my  happyniss   since  you  entered   it. 


30  THE    YELLOWPLl'SH    PAPERS. 

With  yourd — d  lies,  and  novvle  reading,  and  histerrix, 
you  have  perwerted  Mary,  and  made  her  almost  as  mad 
as  yourself."  "My  child!  my  child !"  shriex  out  Mrs. 
Shum,  and  clings  round  missis.  But  Altamont  ran  be- 
tween  them,  and  griping  the  old  lady  by  her  arm, 
dragged  her  to  the  door.  "Follow  your  daughter, 
ma'am,"  says  he,  and  down  she  went.  "  Ckaivls,  see 
those  ladies  to  the  door"  he  hollows  out,  " and  never  let 
them  pass  it  again."  We  walked  down  together,  and 
off  they  went ;  and  master  locked  and  double-locked  the 
bed-room  door  after  him,  intendin,  of  course,  to  have  a 
tator  tutor  (as  they  say)  with  his  wife.  You  may  be  sure 
that  I  followed  up  stairs  again  pretty  quick,  to  hear  the 
result  of  their  confidence. 

As  they  say  at  St.  Stevenses,  it  was  rayther  a  stormy 
debate.  "  Mary,"  says  master,  "you're  no  longer  the 
merry,  grateful  gal,  I  knew  and  loved  at  Pentonwill; 
there's  some  secret  a  pressin  on  you — there's  no  smilin 
welcom  for  me  now,  as  there  used  formly  to  be !  Your 
mother  and  sister-in-law  have  perwerted  you,  Mary ; 
and  that's  why  I've  drove  them  from  this  house,  which 
they  shall  not  re-enter  in  my  life." 

"O,  Frederic  !  it's  you  is  the  cause,  and  not  I.  Why 
do  you  have  any  mistry  from  me?  Where  do  you  spend 
your  days  .'  Why  did  you  leave  me,  even  on  the  day 
of  your  marridge,  for  eight  hours,  and  continue  to  do  so 
every  day  ?" 

"  Because,"  says  he,  "  I  makes  my  livelihood  by  it. 
1  Leave  yon,  and  don't  tell  you  how  I  make  it:  for  it 
would  make  you  none  the  happier  to  know." 

It  was  in  this  way  the  convysation  ren  on — more 
tears  and   questions  on   my  missises  part,  more  sturm- 


miss  siium's  hcsband.  31 

ness  and  silence  on  my  master's :  it  ended,  for  the  first 
time  since  their  marridge,  in  a  reglar  quarrel  "VVery 
difrent,  I  can  tell  yon,  from  all  the  hammerous  billing 
and  kewing  which  had  proceeded  their  nupshuls. 

Master  went  out,  slamming  the  door  in  a  fury ;  as 
well  he  might.  Says  he,  "  If  I  can't  have  a  comforable 
life,  I  can  have  a  jolly  one ;"  and  so  he  went  off  to  the 
hed  tavern,  and  came  home  that  evening  beesly  intaw- 
sicated.  When  high  words  begin  in  a  family,  drink 
generally  follows  on  the  genlman's  side ;  and  then,  fear- 
well  to  all  conjubial  happyniss !  These  two  pipple,  so 
fond  and  loving,  were  now  sirly,  silent,  and  full  of  il  wil. 
Master  went  out  earlier,  and  came  home  later ;  misses 
cried  more,  and  looked  even  paler  than  before. 

Well,  things  went  on  in  this  uncomforable  way, 
master  still  in  the  mopes,  missis  tempted  by  the  deamons 
of  jellosy  and  curosity  ;  until  a  singlar  axident  brought 
to  light  all  the  goings  on  of  Mr.  AJtamont. 

It  was  the  tenth  of  January ;  I  recklect  the  day,  for 
old  Shum  gev  me  half-a-crownd  (the  fust  and  last  of  his 
money  I  ever  see,  by  the  way):  he  was  dining  along 
with  master,  and  they  were  making  merry  together. 

Muster  said,  as  he  was  mixing  his  fifth  tumler  of 
punch,  and  little  Shum  his  twelfth,  or  so — master  said, 
"  I  see  you  twice  in  the  City  to-day,  Mr.  Shum." 

"  Well  that's  curous  !"  says  Shum.  "  I  was  in  the 
City.  To-day's  the  day  when  the  diwydins  (God  bless 
'em)  is  paid ;  and  me  and  Mrs.  S.  went  for  our  half- 
year's  inkem.  But  we  only  got  out  of  the  coach,  cross- 
ed the  street  to  the  Bank,  took  our  money,  and  got  in 
agen.     How  could  you  see  me  twice  I" 

Altamont  stuttered,  and  stammered,  and  hemd,  and 


32  THE    YELLOW  PUSH    PAPERS. 

hawd.  "  O  !"  says  he,  "  I  was  passing — passing  as  you 
went  in  and  out."  And  he  instantly  turned  the  con- 
versation, and  began  talking  about  pollytix,  or  the 
weather,  or  some  such  stuf. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  my  missis  ;  "  but  how  could 
you  see  papa  twice?"  Master  didn't  answer,  but  talk- 
ed pollytix  more  than  ever.  Still  she  wrould  continy 
on.  "  Where  was  you,  my  dear,  wThen  you  saw  pa  ? 
"What  wrere  you  doing,  my  love,  to  see  pa  twice  ?"  and 
so  forth.  Master  looked  angrier  and  angrier,  and  his 
wife  only  pressed  him  wuss  and  wuss. 

Tbis  was,  as  I  said,  little  Shum's  twelfth  tumler ; 
and  I  knew  pritty  wTell  that  he  could  git  very  little  fur- 
ther ;  for,  as  reglar  as  the  thirteenth  came,  Shum  was 
drunk.  The  thirteenth  did  come,  and  its  consquinzes. 
I  was  obliged  to  leed  him  home  to  John  Street,  where 
I  left  him  in  the  hangry  arms  of  Mrs.  Shum. 

"  How  the  d — ,"  sayd  he  all  the  way,  "  how  the 
ddd — the  deddy — deddy — devil — could  he  have  seen 
me  twice  V 


CHAPTER  IV. 

It  was  a  sad  slip  on  Altamont's  part,  for  no  sooner  did 
he  go  out  the  next  morning  than  missis  went  out  too. 
She  tor  down  the  street,  and  never  stopped  till  she 
came  to  her  pa's  house  at  Pentonwill.  She  wras  clositid 
for  an  hour  with  her  ma,  and  when  she  left  her  she 
drove  straight  to  the  City.  She  walked  before  the 
Bank,  and  behind  the  Bank,  and  round  the  Bank  :  she 
came  home  dispenyted,  having  learned  nothink. 

And  it  was  now  an  extraordinary  thing,  that  from 


Miss    shims    HUSBAND.  33 

Sh  urn's  house,  for  the  next  ten  days,  there  was  nothink 
but  expyditions  into  the  City.  Mrs.  S.,  tho  her  dropsic- 
cle  legs  had  never  carred  her  half  so  fur  before,  was 
eternally  on  the  key  veve,  as  the  French  say.  If  she 
didn't  go,  Miss  Betsy  did,  or  misses  did  :  they  seemed 
to  have  an  attraekshun  to  the  Bank,  and  went  there  as 
natral  as  an  omlibus. 

At  last  one  day,  old  Mrs.  Shum  comes  to  our  house 
— (she  wasn't  admitted  when  master  was  there,  but 
came  still  in  his  absints — and  she  wore  a  hair  of  try- 
umph  as  she  entered. 

"  Mary,"  says  she,  "  where  is  the  money  your  hus- 
bind  brought  to  you  yesterday  ?"  My  master  used 
always  to  give  it  to  missis  when  he  returned. 

"  The  money,  ma  !"  says  Mary.  *  Why  here  !"  And, 
pulling  out  her  puss,  she  shewed  a  sovrin,  a  good  heap 
of  silver,  and  an  odddooking  little  coin. 

"  That's  it  !  that's  it !"  cried  Mrs.  S.  "  A  Queene 
Anne's  sixpence,  isn't  it  dear — dated  seventeen  hundred 
and  three  ?" 

It  was  so  sure  enough :  a  Queen  Ans  sixpince  of 
that  very  date. 

"Now,  my  love,"  says  she,  "I  have  found  him! 
Come  with  me  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  know  all  !" 

And  now  comes  the  did  of  mv  storv. 


The  ladies  nex  morning  set  out  for  the  City,  and  I 
walked  behind,  doing  the  genteel  thing,  with  a  nosegy 
and  a  goold  stick.  We  walked  down  the  New  Road 
— we  walked  down  the  City  Road — we  walked  to  the 
Bank.  We  were  crossing  from  that  heddyfiz  to  the 
2* 


34  THE    YELLOWPUSII    PAPERS. 

other  side  of  Cornliill,  when  all  of  a  sudden,   missis 
shreeked,  and  fainted  Bpontaceously  away. 

I  rushed  forrard,  and  raised  her  to  ray  arms  :  spil- 
ing thereby  a  new  weskit,  and  a  pair  of  crimson  smal- 
cloes.  I  rushed  forrard,  I  say,  very  nearly  knocking 
down  the  old  sweeper,  who  was  hobling  away  as  fast  as 
posibil.  We  took  her  to  Birch's;  we  provided  her 
with  a  hackney-coach  and  every  lucksury,  and  carried 

her  home  to  Islington. 

***** 

That  night  master  never  came  home.  Xor  the  nex 
ni"-ht,  nor  the  nex.  On  the  fourth  dav,  an  octioneer 
arrived ;  he  took  an  infantry  of  the  furnitur,  and  placed 
a  bill  in  the  window. 

At  the  end  of  the  wick,  Altamont  made  his  ap- 
pearance. He  was  haggard  and  pale ;  not  so  haggard, 
however,  not  so  pale,  as  his  misrable  wife. 

He  looked  at  her  very  tendrilly.     I  may  say,  it's 

from  him  that  I  coppied  my  look   to   Miss .     He 

looked  at  her  very  tendriily,  and  held  out  his  arms. 
She  gev  a  suffycating  shreek,  and  rusht  into  his  urn- 
braces. 

"  Mary,"  says  he,  "  you  know  all  now.  I  have  sold 
my  place  ;  I  have  got  three  thousand  pound  for  it,  and 
saved  two  more.  I've  sold  my  house  and  furnitur,  and 
that  brings  me  another.  We'll  go  abroad  and  love 
each  other,  has  formly." 

And  now  you  ask  me,  Who  he  was  ?  I  shudder 
t..  relate. — Mr.  Haltamont  sweep  the  crossin  from 
the  Bank  to  Cornhill  ! ! 

Ofcors,  /  left  his  servis.     I  met  him,  few   years 
after,  at    Badden-Badden,  where  he  and    Mrs.  A.   v..  re 
p  p  iss  for  pipple  of  propaty. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  35 


THE  AMOURS  OF  MR.  DEUCEACE. 


DIMOXD    CUT    DIMOND. 


The  name  of  my  nex  master  was,  if  posbil,  still 
more  ellygant  and  youfonious  than  that  of  my  fust.  I 
now  found  myself  boddy  servant  to  the  Honrabble  Hal- 
gernon  Percy  Deuceace,  youngest  and  fifth  son  of  the 
Earl  of  Crabs. 

Halgemon  was  a  barrystir — that  is,  he  lived  in 
Pump  Court  Temple  ;  a  wulgar  naybrood,  witch  praps 
my  readers  don't  no.  Suffiz  to  say,  its  on  the  confines 
of  the  citty,  and  the  choasen  aboad  of  the  lawyers  of 
this  metrappolish. 

When  I  say  that  Mr.  Deuceace  was  a  barrystir,  I 
don't  mean  that  he  went  sesshums  or  surcoats  (as  they 
call'em),  but  simply  that  he  kep  chambers,  lived  in 
Pump  Court,  and  looked  out  for  a  commitionarship,  or 
a  revisinship,  or  any  other  place  that  the  Wig  guwy- 
ment  could  give  him.  His  father  was  a  Wig  pier  (as 
the  landriss  told  me),  and  had  been  a  Toary  pier.  The 
fack  is,  his  lordship  was  so  poar,  that  he  would  be  any- 
think  or  nothink,  to  get  provisions  for  his  sons  and  an 
ink  urn  for  him  self. 

I  phansy  that  he  aloud  Halgemon  two  hundred  a- 


36  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

year  ;  and  it  would  have  been  a  very  comforable  main- 
tenants,  only  he  knever  paid  him. 

Owever,  the  young  gnlmn  was  a  gnlmn,  and  no  mis- 
take ;  he  got  his  allowents  of  nothink  a-year,  and  spent 
it  in  the  most  honrabble  and  fashnabble  manner.  He 
ki'ji  a  kab — he  went  to  Holmax — and  Crockfud's — he 
moved  in  the  most  xquizzit  suckles — and  trubbld  the 
law  boox  very  little,  I  can  tell  you.  Those  fashnabble 
gents  have  ways  of  getten  money,  witch  comman  pipple 
doant  understand. 

Though  be  only  had  a  therd  floar  in  Pump  Cort, 
he  lived  as  if  he  had  the  welth  of  Cresas.  The  tenpun 
notes  fioo  abowt  as  common  as  haypince — clarrit  and 
sbampang  was  at  his  house  as  vulgar  as  gin ;  and  verry 
glad  I  was,  to  be  sure,  to  be  a  valley  to  a  zion  of  the 
nobillaty. 

Deuceace  bad,  in  his  sittin-room,  a  large  pictur  on  a 
sheet  of  paper.  Tbe  names  of  his  family  was  wrote  on 
it ;  it  was  wrote  in  the  shape  of  a  tree,  a  groin  out  of  a 
man-in-armer's  stomick,  and  the  names  were  on  little 
plates  among  tbe  bows.  The  pictur  said  that  the  Deu- 
ceaces  kem  into  England  in  the  year  1066,  along  with 
William  Conqueruns.  My  master  called  it  his  pocly- 
gree.  I  do  bleev  it  was  because  he  had  this  pictur,  and 
liccaiisc  In-  was  tin-  Ifunrnhblr  I  Jcuceaee,  thai  he  man- 
nitched  to  live  as  he  did.  If  he  had  been  a  common 
man,  you'd  have  said  he  was  no  better  than  a  swinler. 
It's  only  rank  andbuth  that  can  warrant  such  singulari- 
ties as  my  master  show'd.  For  it's  no  use  disgysing  it — 
the  Eonrabble  Ilalgernon  was  a  gambler.  For  a  man 
of  wulgar  family,  it's  the  wusl  trade  that  can  be — for  a 
man  of  common  feelinx  of  honesty,  this  profession  is 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  37 


quite  imposbill ;  but  for  a  real  thorough-bread  genlmn, 
it's  the  esiest  and  most  prophetable  line  he  can  take. 

It  may,  praps,  appear  curous  that  such  a  fashnabble 
man  should  live  in  the  Temple ;  but  it  must  be  reek- 
lected,  that  its  not  only  lawyers  who  live  in  what's  call- 
ed the  Ins  of  Cort.  Many  batchylers,  who  have  nothink 
to  do  with  lor,  have  here  their  loginx ;  and  many  sham 
barrysters,  who  never  put  on  a  wig  and  gownd  twise  in 
their  lives,  kip  apartments  in  the  Temple,  instead  of 
Bon  Street,  Pickledilly,  or  other  fashnabble  places. 

Frinstance,  on  our  stairkis  (so  these  houses  are  call- 
ed), there  was  8  sets  of  chamberses,  and  only  3  lawyers. 
These  was,  bottom  floor,  Screwson,  Hewson,  and  Jew- 
son,  attorneys  ;  fust  floor,  Mr.  Sergeant  Flabber — opsite, 
Mr.  Counslor  Brufty ;  and  secknd  pair,  Mr.  Hagger- 
stony,  an  Irish  counslor,  praktising  at  the  Old  Baly,  and 
lickwise  what  they  call  reporter  to  the  Morning  Post 
nyouspapper.     <  >psite  him  was  wrote 

Mr.  Richard  Blewitt  ; 
and  on  the  thud  floar,  with  my  master,  lived  one  Mr. 
D  aw  kins. 

This  young  fellow  was  a  new  comer  into  the  Tem- 
ple, and  unlucky  it  was  for  him  too — he'd  better  have 
never  been  born ;  for  its  my  firm  apinion  that  the  Tem- 
ple ruined  him — that  is,  with  the  help  of  my  master 
and  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt,  as  you  shall  hear. 

Mr.  Dawkins,  as  I  was  gave  to  understand  by  his 
young  man,  had  jest  left  the  Universary  of  Oxford,  and 
had  a  pretty  little  fortn  of  his  own — six  thousand 
pound,  or  so — in  the  stox.  He  was  jest  of  age,  an  or- 
fin  who  had  lost  his  father  and  mother ;  and  having 
distink wished  hisself  at  collitch,  where  he  gained  seff- 


38  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

nil  prices,  was  come  to  town  to  push  his  forte,  and 
study  the  barryster's  bisness. 

Not  bein  of  a  verry  high  famm.y  hisself — indeed, 
I've  heard  say  his  father  was  a  ohismonger,  or  some- 
think  of  that  lo  sort — Dawkins  was  glad  to  find  his  old 
Oxford  trend,  Mr.  Blewitt,  yonger  son  to  rich  Squire 
Blewitt,  of  Listershire,  and  to  take  rooms  so  sear  him. 

Now,  tho'  there  was  a  considdrabble  intimacy  be- 
fween  me  and  Mr.  Blewitt's  gentleman,  there  was 
scarcely  any  betwixt  our  masters, — mine  being  too 
much  of  the  aristoxy  to  associate  with  one  of  Mr. 
Blewitt's  sort.  Blewitt  was  what  they  call  a  bettin 
man ;  he  went  reglar  to  Tattlesall's,  kep  a  pony,  wore  a 
white  hat,  a  blue  berd's-eye  hankercher,  and  a  cut- 
away coat.  In  his  manners  he  was  the  very  contrary 
of  my  master,  who  was  a  slim,  ellygant  man,  as  ever 
I  see — he  had  very  white  hands,  rayther  a  sallow  face, 
with  sharp  dark  ise,  and  small  wiskus  neatly  trimmed, 
and  as  black  as  Warren's  jet — he  spoke  very  low  and 
B<  »ft — he  seemed  to  be  watchin  the  person  with  whom 
he  was  in  convysation,  and  always  flatterd  every  body. 
As  for  Blewitt,  he  was  quite  of  another  sort.  lie  was 
always  swearin,  singing,  and  slappin  people  on  the  back. 
as  hearty  as  posbilL  He  seemed  a  merry,  careless, 
honest  cretur,  whom  one  would  trust  with  life  and  soul. 
Si .  thought  Dawkins,  at  least ;  who,  though  a  quiet  young 
man,  fund  of  his  boox,  nowles,  Byron's  poems,  floot-play- 
ing,  and  such  like  scientific  amusemints,  grew  hand  in 
glove  with  honest  1  >i« - 1<  Blewitt,  and  soon  after  with  my 
master,  the  Honrabble  Balgernon.  Boor  Daw!  he 
thought  he  wasmakin  good  connexions,  and  real  fiends 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  39 


— he  had  fallen  in  with  a  couple  of  the  most  etrocious 
svvinlers  that  ever  lived. 

Before  Mr.  DawMns's  arrivial  in  our  house,  Mr- 
Deuceace  liad  barely  condysended  to  speak  to  Mr 
Blewitt :  it  was  only  about  a  month  after  that  suckum- 
stance  that  my  master,  all  of  a  Budding,  grew  very 
friendly  with  him.  The  reason  was  pretty  dear, — Deuce- 
ace wanted  him.  Dawkins  had  not  been  an  hour  in 
master's  company  before  he  knew  that  he  had  a  pidgin 
to  pluck. 

Blewitt  knew  this  too  ;  and  bein  very  fond  of  pidgin, 
intended  to  keep  this  one  entirely  to  himself.  It  was 
amusin  to  see  the  Honrabble  Halgernon  manuvring  to 
get  this  pore  bird  out  of  Blewitt1  s  clause,  who  thought 
he  had  it  safe.  In  fact,  he'd  brought  Dawkins  to  these 
chambers  for  that  very  porpus,  thinking  to  have  him 
under  his  eye,  and  strip  him  at  leisure. 

My  master  very  soon  found  out  what  was  Mr. 
Blewitt's  game.  Gamblers  know  gamblers,  if  not  by 
inst ink,  at  least  by  reputation;  and  though  Mr.  Blewitt 
moved  in  a  much  lower  spear  than  Mr.  Deuceace,  they 
knew  each  other's  dealins  and  caracters  pufflckly  well. 

"  Charles,  you  scoundrel,"  says  Deuceace  to  me  one 
day  (he  always  spoak  in  that  kind  way),  "  who  is  this 
person  that  has  taken  the  opsit  chambers,  and  plays  the 
flute  so  industrusly  ?" 

"  It's  Mr.  Dawkins,  a  rich  young  gentleman  from 
Oxford,  and  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Blewittses,  sir,"  says  I, 
"  they  seem  to  live  in  each  other's  rooms." 

Master  said nothink, but  he  gririd — my  eye,  how  he 
did  grin  !  Not  the  fowl  find  himself  could  snear  more 
satannickly. 


40  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

I  knew  what  he  meant : 

Imprimish.  A  man  who  plays  the  floot  is  a  sim- 
pleton. 

Secknly.     Mr.  Blewitt  is  a  raskle. 

Thirdmo.  When  a  raskle  and  a  simpleton  is  al- 
wajs  together,  and  when  the  simpleton  is  rich,  one 
knows  pretty  well  what  will  come  of  it. 

I  was  hut  a  lad  in  them  days,  but  I  knew  what  was 
what  as  well  as  my  master;  it's  not  gentlemen  only 
that's  up  to  snough.  Law  bless  us !  there  was  four  of 
us  on  this  stairkes,  four  as  nice  young  men  as  you  ever 
see;  Mr.  Bruffy's  young  man,  Mr.  Dawkinses,  Mr. 
Blewitt's,  and  me — and  we  knew  what  our  masters  was 
about  as  well  as  they  did  theirselfs.  Frinstance,  I  can 
say  this  for  myself,  there  wasn't  a  paper  in  Deuceace's 
desk  or  drawer,  not  a  bill,  a  note,  or  mimerandum,  which 
I  hadn't  read  as  well  as  he:  with  Blewitt's  it  was  the 
same — me  and  his  young  man  used  to  read  'em  all. 
There  wasn't  a  bottle  of  wine  that  we  didn't  get  a  glas, 
nor  a  pound  of  sugar  that  we  didn't  have  some  lumps 
of  it.  We  had  keys  to  all  the  cubbards — we  pipped 
into  all  the  letters  that  kem  and  went — we  pored  over 
all  the  bill-files — we'd  the  best  pickens  out  of  the  din- 
ners, the  livvers  of  the  fowls,  the  force-mit  balls  out  of 
the  soup,  the  egs  from  the  sallit.  As  for  the  coals  and 
candles,  we  left  them  to  the  landrisses.  You  may  call 
this  robry — nonsince — it's  only  our  rights — a  suvvant's 
purquizzits  is  as  sacred  as  the  laws  of  Hengland. 

Well,  the  long  and  short  of  it  is  this.  Richard 
Blewitt,  esquire,  was  sityouated  as  follows  :  He'd  an  in- 
k u m  of  three  hunderd  a-year  from  his  father.  Out  of 
tli is  he  had  to  pay  one  hunderd  and  ninety  for  money 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  41 


borrowed  by  him  at  collidge,  seventy  for  chambers, 
seventy  more  for  his  boss,  aty  for  his  suvvant  on  bord 
wagis,  and  about  three  hunderd  and  fifty  for  a  sepprat 
establishment  in  the  Regency  Park ;  besides  this,  his 
pockit  money,  say  a  hunderd,  his  eatin,  drinkin,  and 
wine-marchant's  bill,  about  two  hunderd  moar.  So  that 
you  see  he  laid  by  a  pretty  handsome  sum  at  the  end 
of  the  year. 

My  master  was  diffrent ;  and  being  a  more  fashnab- 
ble  man  than  Mr.  B.,  in  course  he  owed  a  deal  more 
money.     There  was  fust : 

Account  contray,  at  Crockford's   .         .  £3711     0     0 
Bills  of  xchange  and  I.  0.  U.'s  (but  he 

didn't  pay  these  in  most  cases) 
21  tailor's  bills,  in  all 
3  hossdealer'a  do.     . 
2  coachbilder       .... 
Bills  contracted  at  Cambritch 
Sundries      ..... 


I  give  this  as  a  curosity — pipple  doant  know  how  in 
many  cases  fashnabble  life  is  carried  on ;  and  to  know 
even  what  a  real  gnlmn  owes  is  somethink  instructif 
and  agreeable. 

But  to  my  tail.  The  very  day  after  my  master  had 
made  the  inquiries  concerning  Mr.  Dawkins,  witch  I 
mentioned  already,  he  met  Mr.  Blewitt  on  the  stairs ; 
and  byoutiffle  it  was  to  see  how  this  gnlman,  who  had 
before  been  almost  cut  by  my  master,  was  now  received 
by  him.  One  of  the  sweatest  smiles  I  ever  saw  was 
now  vizzable  on  Mr.  Deuceace's  countenance.  He  held 
out  his  band,  covered  with   a  white  kid  glove,  and  said, 


4963 

0 

0 

1306 

11 

9 

402 

0 

0 

506 

0 

0 

2193 

6 

8 

98*7 

10 

0 

£14069 

8 

5 

42  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


in  the  most  frenlytone  of  vice  posbill,  "  What  ?  Mr. 
]  Hew  itt  .'  It  is  an  age  since  we  met.  What  a  shame  that 
such  near  naybors  should  see  each  other  so  seldom!" 

Mr.  Blewitt,  who  was  standing  at  his  door,  in  a  pe- 
green  dressing-gown,  smoakin  a  segar,  and  singin  a 
hunting  coarus,  looked  surprised,  flattered,  and  then 
suspicious. 

"  Why,  yes,"  says  he,  "  it  is,  Mr.  Deuceace,  a  long 
time." 

"Not,  I  think,  since  we  dined  at  Sir  George 
Hookey's.  Bv  the  bv,  what  an  evening1  that  was — 
hay,  Mr.  Blewitt  ?  what  wine  !  what  capital  songs  !  I 
recollect  your  '  May-day  in  the  morning' — cuss  me,  the 
best  comick  song  I  ever  heard.  I  was  speaking  to  the 
1  Hike  of  Doncaster  about  it  only  yesterday.  You  know 
the  duke;  I  think." 

Mr.  Blewitt  said,  quite  surly,  "No,  I  don't." 

u  Xot  know  him !"  cries  master ;  "  why,  hang  it, 
Blewitt !  he  knows  you,  as  every  sporting  man  in  Eng- 
land does,  I  should  think.  Why,  man,  your  good  things 
are  in  everybody's  mouth  at  Newmarket." 

And  so  master  went  on  chaffin  Mr.  Blewitt.  That 
genlmn  at  fust  answered  him  quite  short  and  angry  ; 
but,  after  a  little  more  flumery,  he  grew  as  pleased  as 
posbill,  took  in  all  Deuceace's  flatry,  and  bleeved  all  his 
lies.  At  last  the  door  shut,  and  they  both  went  in  to 
Mr.  Blewitt's  chambers  together. 

( >f  course  I  can't  say  what  past  there ;  but  in  an 

hour  master  kem  up  to  his  own  room  as  yaller  as  mus- 

tard,  and  smellin  sadly  of  backo  smoke.   I  neversee  any 

ilmn  more  sick  than  he  was;  he'd  been  smoakin  sea- 

'/"/■>•  along  with  Blewitt.     1  said  nothink,  in  course,  tho' 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  43 


I'd  often  heard  him  xpress  his  horrow  of  backo,  and 
knew   very  well  he  would  as  soon  swallow  pizon  as 

smoke.  •  But  he  wasn't  a  chap  to  do  a  thing  without  a 
reason  :  if  he'd  been  smoakin,  I  warrant  he  had  smoked 
to  some  porpus. 

I  didn't  hear  the  convysation  between  'em  ;  but  Mr. 
Blewitt's  man  did  :  it  was, — "  Well,  Mr.  Blewitt,  what 
capital  seagars  !  Have  you  one  for  a  friend  to  smoak  ?" 
(The  old  fox,  it  wasn't  only  the  seagars  he  was  a  smoak- 
in !)  "  Walk  in,"  says  Mr.  Blewitt ;  and  they  began  a 
chaffin  together ;  master  very  ankshous  about  the  young 
gintleman  who  had  come  to  live  in  our  chambers,  Mr. 
Hawkins,  and  always  coming  back  to  that  subject, — 
savin  that  people  on  the  same  stairkis  ot  to  be  frenly ; 
how  glad  he'd  be,  for  his  part,  to  know  Mr.  Dick  Blew- 
itt, and  any  friend  of  his,  and  so  on.  Mr.  Dick,  how- 
sever,  seamed  quite  aware  of  the  trap  laid  for  him.  "  I 
really  don't  no  this  Dawkins,"  says  he :  "  he's  a  chis- 
monger's  son,  I  hear ;  and  tho'  I've  exchanged  visits 
with  him,  I  doant  intend  to  continyou  the  acquaintance, 
— not  wishin  to  assoshate  with  that  kind  of  pipple." 
So  they  went  on,  master  fishin,  and  Mr.  Blewitt  not 
wishin  to  take  the  hook  at  no  price. 

"Confound  the  vulgar  thief!"  muttard  my  master, 
as  he  was  laying  on  his  sophy,  after  being  so  very  ill ; 
"  I've  poisoned  myself  with  his  infernal  tobacco,  and  he 
has  foiled  me.  The  cursed  swindling  boor !  he  thinks 
he'll  ruin  this  poor  cheesemonger,  does  he  ?  I'll  step  in, 
and  warn  him." 

I  thought  I  should  bust  a  laffin,  when  he  talked  in 
this  style.  I  knew  very  well  what  his  "  warning"  meant, 
— lockin  the  stable-door,  but  stealin  the  boss  fust. 


44  THE    YELLOW  PLUSH     PAPERS. 

Next  day,  his  strattygam  for  becoming  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Hawkins,  we  exicuted,  and  very  pritty  it  was. 

Besides  potry  and  the  Hoot,  Mr.  Dawkins,  I  must 
tell  you,  had  some  other  parshallities — wiz.,  he  was  very 
fond  of  good  eatin  and  drinkin.  After  doddling  over 
his  music  and  boox  all  day,  this  young  genlmn  used  to 
sally  out  of  evenings,  dine  Bumptiously  at  a  tavern, 
drinkin  all  sots  of  wine  along  with  his  friend  Mr.  Blew- 
itt.  He  was  a  quiet  young  fellow  enough  at  fust ;  but 
it  was  Mr.  B.  who  (for  his  own  porpuses,  no  doubt,)  had 
got  him  into  this  kind  of  life.  Well,  I  needn't  say  that 
he  who  eats  a  fine  dinner,  and  drinks  too  much  over- 
night, wants  a  bottle  of  soda-water,  and  a  gril,  praps, 
in  the  morning.  Such  was  Mr.  Hawkinses  case ;  and 
reglar  almost  as  twelve  o'clock  came,  the  waiter  from 
Bix  Coffy-IIouse  was  to  be  seen  on  our  stairkis,  bringing 
up  Mr.  B.'s  hot  breakfast. 

No  man  would  have  thought  there  was  anythink  in 
such  a  trifling  circkumstance  ;  master  did,  though,  and 
pounced  upon  it  like  a  cock  on  a  barlycorn. 

He  sent  me  out  to  Mr.  Morell's  in  Pickledilly,  foi 
wot's  called  a  Strasbug-pie — in  French,  a  "patty  dcfaw 
grawr  He  takes  a  card,  and  nails  it  on  the  outside  case 
(patty  defaw  graws  come  generally  in  a  round  wooden 
box,  like  a  drumb) ;  and  what  do  you  think  he  writes 
on  it  '.  why,  as  folios  : — "  For  the  Honourable  Algernon 
Percy  Deuceace,  &c.  &c.  d'c.    With  Prince  Talleyrand's 

ami  jill  tin '///.s'.1' 

Prince  Tally  ram's  complimints,  indeed!  I  laff  when 
1  think  of  it  still,  the  old  surpint!  He  was  a  surpint, 
thai  I 'fiiceace,  and  no  mistake. 

Well,  by  a  most  extrornary  piece  of  ill-luck,  the  nex 


MU.    DEUCEACfi.  45 


day  punctially  as  Mr.  I  Hawkinses  brexfas  was  coming  up 
the  stairs,  Mr.  Llalgernon  Percy  Deuceace  was  going  down. 
He  was  as  gay  as  a  lark,  humming  an  Oppra  tune,  and 
twizzting  round  his  head  his  hevy  gold-headed  cane. 
1  ><>\vn  he  went  very  fast,  and  by  a  most  unlucky  axdent 
struck  his  cane  against  the  waiter's  tray,  and  away  went 
Mr.  Dawkinses  gril,  kayann,  kitchup,  soda-water,  and 
all !  I  can't  think  how  my  master  should  have  choas 
such  an  exact  time ;  to  be  sure,  his  windo  looked  upon 
the  cort,  and  he  could  see  every  one  who  came  into  our 
door. 

As  soon  as  the  axdent  had  took  place,  master  was 
in  such  a  rage  as,  to  be  sure,  no  man  ever  was  in  befor ; 
he  swoar  at  the  waiter  in  the  most  dreddfle  way ;  he 
threatened  him  with  his  stick,  and  it  was  only  when  he 
see  that  the  waiter  was  rayther  a  bigger  man  than  his 
self  that  he  was  in  the  least  pazzyfied.  He  returned  to 
his  owTn  chambres ;  and  John,  the  waiter,  went  off  for 
more  grill  to  Dixes  Coffy-House. 

"  This  is  a  most  unlucky  axdent,  to  be  sure,  Charles," 
says  master  to  me,  after  a  few  minnits  paws,  during 
which  he  had  been  and  wrote  a  note,  put  it  into  an  an- 
velope,  and  sealed  it  with  his  bigg  seal  of  arms.  "  But 
stay — a  thought  strikes  me — take  this  note  to  Mr.  Daw- 
kins,  and  that  pye  you  brought  yesterday  ;  and  hearkye, 
you  scoundrel,  if  you.  ay  where  you  got  it  I  will  break 
every  bone  in  your  skin  !" 

These  kind  of  prommises  wrere  among  the  few  which 
I  knew  him  to  keep :  and  as  I  loved  boath  my  skinn 
and  my  boans,  I  carried  the  noat,  and,  of  cors,  said  no- 
think.  Waiting  in  Mr.  Dawkinses  chambus  for  a  few 
minnits,  T  returned  to  my  master  with  an  anser.     I  may 


46  THE    YELLOW  I'LLSII     I'APERS. 

as  well  give  both  of  these  documence,  of  which  I  happen 
to  have  taken  coppies. 


"The  Hon.  A.  P.  Deuceace  to  T.  S.  Dawkins,  Esq. 

"Temple,  Tuesday. 

"  Mr.  1  >eueeace  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr. 
Dawkins,  and  begs  at  the  same  time  to  offer  his  most 
sincere  apologies  and  regrets  for  the  accident  which  has 
just  taken  place. 

'•  May  Mr.  Deuceace  be  allowed  to  take  a  neigh- 
bour's privilege,  and  to  remedy  the  evil  he  has  occa- 
sioned to  the  best  of  his  power  ?  If  Mr.  Daw  kins  will 
do  him  the  favour  to  partake  of  the  contents  of  the  ac- 
companying case  (from  Strasburg  direct,  and  the  gift  of 
a  friend,  on  whose  taste  as  a  gourmand  Mr.  Dawkins 
may  rely),  perhaps  he  will  find  that  it  is  not  a  bad  sub- 
stitute f>r  the  plat  which  Mr.  Deuceace's  awkwardness 
destroyed. 

"  It  will,  also,  Mr.  Deuceace  is  sure,  be  no  small 
gratification  to  the  original  donor  of  the  pate,  when  he 
learns  that  it  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  so  celebrated 
a  bon  vivant  as  Mr.  Dawkins. 

"  T.  S.  Dawkins,  Esq.,  &c.  &c.  <&c" 


II. 

il  From  T.  S.  Dawkins,  Esq.,  to  the  Hon.  A.  P. 
Deuceace. 

"Mr.  Thomas  Smith  Hawkins  presents  his  grateful 


MR.    DEI  CEACE.  47 


compliments  to  the  Hon.   Mr.    Deuceace,  and   accepts 
with   the  greatest  pleasure   Mr.  Deuceace's  generous 

proffer. 

"It  would  be  one  of  the  happiest  moments  of  Mr. 
Smith  Dawkins's  life,  if  the  Hon.  Mr.  Deuceace  would 
extend  Ms  generosity  still  further,  and  condescend  to 
partake  of  the  repast  which  his  munificent  politeness 
has  furnished. 

'♦Temple,  Tuesday." 

Many  and  many  a  time,  I  say,  have  I  grind  over 
these  letters,  which  I  had  wrote  from  the  original  by 
Mr.  Bruffy's  copyin  dark.  Deuceace's  flam  about  Prince 
Tallyram  was  puffiekly  successful.  I  saw  young  Daw- 
kins  blush  with  delate  as  he  red  the  note ;  he  toar  up 
for  or  five  sheets  b<  f<  >re  he  composed  the  answer  to  it, 
which  was  as  you  red  abuff,  and  roat  in  a  hand  quite 
trembling  with  pleasyer.  If  you  could  but  have  seen 
the  look  of  triumph  in  Deuceace's  wicked  black  eyes, 
when  he  read  the  noat !  I  never  see  a  deamin  yet,  but 
I  can  phansy  1,  a  holding  a  writhing  soal  on  his  pitch- 
frock,  and  smilin  like  Deuceace.  He  dressed  himself  in 
his  very  best  clothes,  and  in  he  went,  after  sending  me 
over  to  say  that  he  would  xcept  with  pleasyour  Mr. 
1  >a\vkins's  invite. 

The  pie  was  cut  up,  and  a  most  frenly  conversation 
begun  betwixt  the  two  genhnin.  Deuceace  was  quite 
captivating.  He  spoke  to  Mr.  Dawkins  in  the  most 
respectful  and  rlatrin  manner, — agreadin  every  think  he 
said, — prazed  his  taste,  his  furniter,  his  coat,  his  classick 
nolledge,  and  his  playin  on  the  floot ;  you'd  have  thought, 
to  hear  him,  that  such  a  polygon  of  exlens  as  Dawkins 


48  THE    VELLOWPHSli     PAPERS. 

did  not  breath, — that  such  a  modist,  sinsear,  honrabble 
genlmn  as  Deuceace  was  to  be  seen  no  where  xcept  in 
l'umpCort.  Poor  Daw  was  complitly  taken  in.  My 
master  said  he'd  introduce  him  to  the  Duke  of  Doncaster, 
and  Heaven  knows  how  many  nobs  more,  till  Dawkins 
was  quite  intawsicated  with  pleasyour.  I  know  as  a 
fac  (and  it  pretty  well  shows  the  young  genlmn's  earry- 
ter),  that  he  went  that  very  day  and  ordered  2  new 
coats,  on  porpos  to  be  introjuiced  to  the  lords  in. 

But  the  best  joak  of  all  was  at  last.  Singin,  swag- 
rin,  and  swarink — up  stares  came  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt. 
He  flung  open  Mr.  Dawkins's  door,  shouting  out,  "  Daw, 
my  old  buck,  how  are  you  j"  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  he 
sees  Mr.  Deuceace:  his  jor  dropt,  he  turned  chocky 
white,  and  then  burnin  red,  and  looked  as  if  a  stror 
would  knock  him  down.  "  My  dear  Mr.  Blewitt,"  says 
my  master,  smilin,  and  offring  his  hand,  "  how  glad  I 
am  to  see  you.  Mr.  Dawkins  and  I  were  just  talking 
about  your  pony !     Pray  sit  down." 

Blewitt  did ;  and  now  was  the  question,  who  should 
sit  the  other  out;  but,  law  bless  you!  Mr.  Blewitt  was 
no  match  for  my  master ;  all  the  time  he  was  fidgetty, 
silent  and  Bulky:  on  the  contry,  master  was  charmin. 
1  never  herd  such  a  flo  of  conversatin,  or  so  many  wit- 
tacisms  as  he  uttered.  At  last,  completely  beat,  Mr. 
Blewitt  took  his  leaf;  that  instant  master  followed  him  ; 
and  passim  his  arm  through  that  of  Mr.  Dick,  led  him 
into  our  chambers,  and  began  talkin  to  him  in  the  most 
affabl  and  affeckshnat  manner. 

Bui  Dick  was  too  angry  to  listen;  at  last,  when 
master  wa-  telling  him  some  long  story  about  the  Duke 
ofDancaster,  Blewitt  burst  out — 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  49 


"  A  plague  on  the  Duke  of  Doncaster !  Come,  come, 
Mr.  Deuceace,  don't  you  be  running  your  rigs  upon  me ; 
I  an't  the  man  to  be  bamboozl'd  by  long-winded  stories 
about  dukes  and  duchesses.  You  think  I  dou't  know 
you ;  every  man  knows  you,  and  your  line  of  country. 
Yes,  you're  after  young  Dawkins  there,  and  think  to 

pluck  him  ;  but  you  shan't, — no,  by you  shant." 

(The  reader  must  recklect  that  the  oaths  which  inter- 
spussd  Mr.  B's  convysation  I  have  lift  out.)  Well,  after 
he'd  fired  a  wolley  of  em,  Mr.  Deuceace  spoke  as  cool 
and  slow  as  possbill. 

"■  Heark  ye,  Blewitt.  I  know  you  to  be  one  of  the 
most  infernal  thieves  and  scoundrels  unhung.  If  you 
attempt  to  hector  with  me,  I  will  cane  you  ;  if  you  want 
more,  I'll  shoot  you ;  if  you  meddle  between  me  and 
Dawkins,  I  will  do  both.  I  know  your  whole  life,  you 
miserable  swindler  and  coward.  I  know  you  have 
already  won  two-hundred  pounds  of  this  lad,  and  want 
all.  I  will  have  half,  or  you  never  shall  have  a  penny." 
It's  quite  true  that  master  knew  things ;  but  how  was 
the  wonder. 

I  couldn't  see  Mr.  B's.  face  during  this  dialogue, 
bein  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  door ;  but  there  was  a 
considdrabble  paws  after  thuse  complymints  had  passed 
between  the  two  genlmn, — one  walkin  quickly  up  and 
down  the  room, — tother,  angry  and  stupid,  sittin  down, 
and  stampin  with  his  foot. 

■•  Xow  listen  to  this,  Mr.  Blewitt,"  continues  master 
at  last ;  "  if  you're  quiet,  you  shall  half  this  fellow's 
money  :  but  venture  to  win  a  shilling  from  him  in  my 
absence,  or  without  my  consent,  and  you  do  it  at  your 
peril. 


50  THE    YKLLOWl'LLSH     PAPERS. 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Deuceace,"  cries  Dick,  "  it's  very 
hard,  and,  I  must  say,  not  fair:  the  game  was  of  my 
startin,  and  you've  no  right  to  interfere  with  my  friend." 

"  Mr.  Blewitt,  you  are  a  fool !  You  professed  yes- 
terday not  to  know  this  man,  and  I  was  obliged  to  find 
him  out  for  myself.  I  should  like  to  know  by  what 
law  of  honour  I  am  bound  to  give  him  up  to  you  V 

It  was  charmiu  to  hear  this  pair  of  raskles  talkin 
about  honour.  I  declare  I  could  have  found  it  in  my 
heart  to  warn  young  Dawkins  of  the  precious  way  in 
which  these  chaps  were  going  to  serve  him.  But  if 
they  didn't  know  what  honour  was,  /  did  ;  and  never, 
never  did  I  tell  tails  about  my  masters  when  in  their  sar- 
vice — out,  in  cors,  the  hobligation  is  no  longer  binding. 

Well,  the  nex  day  there  was  a  gran  dinner  at  our 
chambers.  White  soop,  turbit,  and  lobstir  sos ;  saddil 
of  Scoch  muttn,  grous,  and  M'Arony  ;  wines,  shampang, 
hock,  maderia,  a  bottle  of  poart,  and  ever  so  many  of 
clarrit.  The  compny  presint  was  three  ;  wiz.,  the  Hon- 
rabble  A.  P.  Deuceace,  R.  Blewitt,  and  Mr.  Dawkins, 
Esquires.  My  i,  how  we  genlmn  in  the  kitehin  did 
enjy  it.  Mr.  Blewittes  man  eat  so  much  grous  (when 
it  was  brot  out  of  the  parlor),  that  I  reely  thought  he 
would  be  sik ;  Mr.  Dawkinses  gnlmn  (who  was  only 
abowt  13  years  of  age)  grew  so  il  with  M'Arony  and 
plumb  puddn,  as  to  be  obleeged  to  take  sefral  of  Mr. 
I  >'s.  pils,  which  j  kild  him.  But  this  is  all  promiscu- 
ous :  I  an't  talkin  of  the  survants  now,  but  the  masters. 

Would  you  bleev  it  ?  After  dinner  and  praps  8 
bottles  of  wine  betwin  the  3)  the  genlm  sat  down  to 
'"/////.  It's  a  game  where  only  2  plays,  and  where,  in 
coarse,  when  there's  ony  3,  one  looks  on. 


MR.    DEUCKACE.  51 


Fust,  they  playd  crown  pints,  and  a  pound  fchebett. 

At  this  game  they  were  wonderful  equill  ;  and  about 
supper-time  (when  grilled  am,  more  shampang,  devld 
biskits,  and  other  things,  was  brot  in)  the  play  stood 
thus :  Mr.  Dawkins  had  won  2  pounds  ;  Mr.  Blewitt, 
30  shillings  ;  the  Honrabble  Mr.  Deuceace  having  lost 
31.  10s.  After  the  devvle  and  the  shampang  the  play 
was  a  little  higher.  Now  it  was  pound  pints,  and  five 
pound  the  bet.  I  thought,  to  be  sure,  after  hearing  the 
complyments  between  Blewitt  and  master  in  the  morn- 
ing, that  now  poor  Dawkins's  time  was  come. 

Not  so :  Dawkins  won  always,  Mr.  B.  betting  on 
his  play,  and  giving  him  the  very  best  of  advice.  At 
the  end  of  the  evening  (which  was  abowt  five  o'clock 
the  nex  morning)  they  stopt.  Master  was  counting  up 
the  skore  on  a  card. 

"Blewitt,"  says  he,  "I've  been  unlucky.  I  owe 
you — let  me  see — yes,  fivo-and- forty  pounds  ?" 

"  Five-and-forty,"  says  Blewitt,  "  and  no  mistake  !" 

"  I  will  give  you  a  cheque,"  says  the  honrabble 
genlmn. 

"  Oh  !  don't  mention  it  my  dear  Sir  !"  But  mas- 
ter got  a  grate  sheet  of  paper,  and  drew  him  a  check  on 
Messeers  Pump,  Algit,  and  Co.,  his  bankers. 

"  Now,"  says  master,  "  I've  got  to  settle  with  you, 
my  dear  Mr.  Dawkins.  If  you  had  backd  your  luck, 
1  should  have  owed  you  a  very  handsome  sum  of  mo- 
ney. Voyons,  thirteen  points,  at  a  pound — it  is  easy 
to  calculate  ;"  and  drawin  out  his  puss,  he  clinked  over 
the  table  13  goolden  suverings,  which  shon  till  they 
made  my  eyes  wink. 


52  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

So  did  pore  Dawkinses,  as  he  put  out  his  hand,  all 
trembling,  and  drew  them  in. 

"  Let  me  say,"  added  master,  "  let  me  say  (and  I've 
had  some  little  experience),  that  you  are  the  very  best 
£cartt  player  with  whom  I  ever  sat  down." 

Dawkinses  eyes  glissened  as  he  put  the  money  up, 
and  said  "  Law,  Deuceace,  you  flatter  me  !" 

Flatter  him  !  I  should  think  he  did.  It  was  the 
very  thing  which  master  ment. 

"  But  mind  you,  Dawkius,"  eontinyoud  he,  "  I  must 
have  my  revenge  ;  for  I'm  ruined — positively  ruined — 
by  your  luck." 

"  Well,  well,"  says  .Mr.  Thomas  Smith  Dawkins,  as 
pleased  as  if  he  had  gained  a  millium,  "  shall  it  be  to- 
morrow !    Blewitt,  what  say  you  ?" 

Mr.  Blewitt  agread,  in  course.  My  master,  after  a 
little  demurring,  consented  too.  "  We'll  meet,"  says 
he,  "at  your  chambers.  But  mind,  my  dear  fello,  not 
too  much  wine  :  I  can't  stand  it  at  any  time,  espeeially 
when  I  have  to  play  tcarte"  with  yow." 

Pore  Dawkins  left  our  rooms  as  happy  as  a  prins. 
"  Here,  Charles,"  says  he,  and  flung  me  a  sovring.  Pore 
fellow  !  pore  fellow  !  I  knew  what  was  a  comin  ! 

But  tin-  best  of  it  was,  that  these  13  sovrings  which 
Dawkins  won,  master  had  borrowed  them  from  Mr. 
Blewitt  !  I  brought  'em,  with  7  more,  from  that  young 
genhnn's  chambers  that  very  morning:  for,  since  his 
interview  with  master,  Blewitt  had  nothing  to  refuse 
him. 

Well,  shall  I  continue  the  tail  ?     If  Mr.  Dawkins 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  53 


had  been  the  least  bit  wiser,  it  would  have  taken  him 
six  months  befoar  he  lost  his  money ;  as  it  was,  he  was 
such  a  confounded  ninny,  that  it  took  him  a  very  short 
time  to  part  with  it. 

Nex  day  (it  was  Thursday,  and  master's  acquaint- 
ance with  Mr.  Dawkins  had  only  commenced  on  Tues- 
day), Mr.  Dawkins,  as  I  said,  gev  his  party, — dinner  at 
7.  Mr.  Blewitt  and  the  two  Mr.  D.'s  as  befoar.  Play 
begins  at  1 1 .  This  time  I  knew  the  bisniss  was  pretty 
serious,  for  we  suvvants  was  packed  off  to  bed  at  2  o'clock. 
On  Friday,  I  went  to  chambers — no  master — he  kem 
in  for  5  minutes  at  about  12,  made  a  little  toilit,  order- 
ed more  devvles  and  soda-water,  and  back  again  he 
went  to  Mr.  Dawkins's. 

They  had  dinner  there  at  1  again,  but  nobody  seam- 
ed to  eat,  for  all  the  vittles  came  out  to  us  genlmn  : 
they  had  in  more  wine  though,  and  must  have  drunk 
at  least  2  dozen  in  the  36  hours. 

At  ten  o'clock,  however,  on  Friday  night,  back  my 
master  came  to  his  chambers.  I  saw  him  as  I  never 
saw  him  before,  namly,  reglar  drunk.  lie  staggered 
about  the  room,  he  danced,  he  hickipd,  he  swoar,  he 
flung  me  a  heap  of  silver,  and,  finely,  he  sunk  down  ex- 
osted  on  his  bed;  I  pullin  off  his  boots  and  close,  and 
niakin  him  comfrabble. 

When  I  had  removed  his  garmints,  I  did  what  it's 
the  duty  of  every  servant  to  do — I  em  tied  his  pockits, 
and  looked  at  his  pockit-book  and  all  his  letters  ;  a  num- 
ber of  axdents  have  been  prevented  that  way. 

I  found  there,  among  a  heap  of  things,  the  following 
pretty  dockyment : 


54  THE    YELLOWPLLSH    PAPERS. 


I.  0.  U. 
£4700. 
Thomas  Smith  Dawkins. 


Friday, 
16tf/t  January. 


There  was  another  bit  of  paper  of  the  same  kind — 

"  I.  0.  U.  four  hundred  pounds,  Richard  Blewitt :"  but 

this,  in  cors,  ment  nothink. 

***** 

Nex  mornin,  at  nine,  master  was  up,  and  as  sober 
as  a  judg.  He  drest,  and  was  off  to  Mr.  Dawkins.  At 
10,  he  ordered  a  cab,  and  the  two  genlm  went  together. 

M  Where  shall  he  drive,  sir,"says  I. 

"  Oh,  tell  him  to  drive  to  the  Baxk." 

Pore  Dawkins !  his  eyes  red  with  remors  and  sleep- 
liss  drunkenniss,  gave  a  shudder  and  a  sob,  as  he  sunk 
back  in  the  wehicle ;  and  they  drove  on. 

That  day  he  sold  out  every  hapny  he  was  worth, 

xcept  five  hundred  pounds. 

***** 

Abowt  1 2  master  had  returned,  and  Mr.  Dick  Blew- 
itt came  stridin  up  the  stairs  with  a  solium  and  import- 
ant hair. 

"  Is  your  master  at  home  ?"  says  he. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  I ;  and  in  he  walks.  I,  in  coars, 
with  my  ear  to  the  keyhole,  listning  with  all  my  mite 

"  Well,"  says  Blewitt,  "  we  maid  a  pretty  good  night 


MR.    DKUCEACJE.  ■  55 


of  it,  Mr.   Deuceace.     You've  settled,  I  see,  with  Daw- 
kins." 

"  Settled  I"  says  master.  "  Oh,  yes — yes — I've  set- 
tled with  him." 

"Four  thousand  seven  handred,  I  think?" 

"  About  that— yes." 

"That  makes  my  share — let  me  see — two  thousand 
three  hundred  and  fifty ;  which  I'll  thank  you  to  fork 
out." 

"  Upon  my  word — why — Mr.  Blewitt,"  says  master, 
"  I  don't  really  understand  what  you  mean." 

"  You  don't  knoio  ivhat  I  mean  /"  says  Blewitt,  in  an 
axent  such  as  I  never  before  heard  ;  "  You  don't  know 
what  I  mean !  Did  you  not  promise  me  that  we  were 
to  go  shares  ?  Didn't  I  lend  you  twenty  sovereigns  the 
other  night  to  pay  our  losings  to  Dawkins  ?  Didn't  you 
swear,  on  your  honour  as  a  gentleman,  to  give  me  half  of 
all  that  might  be  won  in  this  affair  ?" 

"Agreed,  sir,"  says  Deuceace;  "agreed." 

"  Well,  sir,  and  now  what  have  you  to  say  ?" 
"  Why,  that  I  don't  intend  to  keep  my  promise  !  You 
infernal  fool  and  ninny  !  do  you  suppose  I  was  labour- 
ing for  you  ?  Do  you  fancy  I  was  going  to  the  expense 
of  giving  a  dinner  to  that  jackass  yonder,  that  you  should 
profit  by  it  ?  Get  away,  sir  !  Leave  the  room,  sir !  Or, 
stop — here — I  will  give  you  four  hundred  pounds — your 
own  note  of  hand,  sir,  for  that  sum,  if  you  will  consent 
to  forget  all  that  has  passed  between  us,  and  that  you 
have  never  known  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace." 

I've  sean  pipple  angery  before  now,  but  never  any 
like  Blewitt.  He  stormed,  groaned,  helloed,  swoar !  At 
last,  he  fairly  began  blubbring ;  now  cussing  and  nash- 


56  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

ing  bis  teeth,  now  praying  dear  Mr.  Deuceace  to  grant 
liirn  mercy. 

At  last,  master  flung  open  the  door  (Heavn  bless  us  ! 
it's  well  I  didn't  tumble,  bed  over  eels,  into  the  room  !), 
and  said,  "  Charles,  show  the  gentleman  down  stairs  !" 
My  master  looked  at  him  quite  steddy.  Blewitt  slunk 
down,  as  misrabble  as  any  man  I  ever  see.  As  for  Daw- 
kins,  Heaven  knows  where  he  was  ! 

***** 

"  Charles,"  says  my  master  to  me,  about  an  hour  af- 
terwards, "  I'm  going  to  Paris ;  you  may  come,  too,  if 
you  please." 


MK.    DEUCEACE.  5*7 


SKIMMINGS  FROM  "THE  DAIRY  OF 
GEORGE  IV." 

CHARLES  YELLOWPLUSH  ESQ.,  TO  OLIVER  YORKE,  ESQ. 

Dear  Why, — Takin  advantage  of  the  Crismiss  ho- 
lydays,  Sir  John  and  me  (who  is  a  member  of  parly- 
ment)  had  gone  down  to  our  place  in  Yorkshire  for  six 
wicks,  to  shoot  grows  and  woodcox,  and  enjoy  old  Eng- 
lish hospatalaty.  This  ugly  Canady  hisniss  unluckaly 
put  an  end  to  our  sports  in  the  country,  and  brot  us  up 
to  Buckly  Square  as  fast  as  four  posterses  could  gallip. 
When  there,  I  found  your  parcel,  containing  the  two  vol- 
lums  of  a  new  hook,  witch,  as  I  have  been  away  from 
the  literary  world,  and  em  plied  solyin  athlatic  exorcises, 
have  been  laying  neglected  in  my  pantry,  among  my 
knife-cloaths,  and  dekanters,  and  blacking-bottles,  and 
bed-room  candles,  and  things. 

This  will,  I'm  sure,  account  for  my  delay  in  notus- 
sing  the  work.  I  see  sefral  <  >f  the  papers  and  magazeens 
have  been  befoarhand  with  me,  and  have  given  their 
apinions  concerning  it ;  specially  the  Quotly  Revew, 
which  has  most  mussilessly  cut  to  peases  the  author  of 
this  Dairy  of  the  Times  of  George  I V* 

*  Diary  illustrative   of  thf>  Times  of  George  the   Fourth, 


58  THE    VELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


That  it's  a  woman  who  wrote  it  is  evydent  from  the 
style  of  the  writing,  as  well  as  from  certain  proofs  in  the 
book  itself.  Most  suttnly  a  femail  wrote  this  Dairy  ; 
but  who  this  Dairy-maid  may  be,  I,  in  coarse,  cant  con- 
jecter :  and  indeed,  common  galliantry  forbids  me  to 
ask.  I  can  only  judge  of  the  book  itself,  which,  it  ap- 
pears to  me,  is  clearly  trenching  upon  my  ground  and 
favrite  subjicks,  viz.  fashnabble  life,  as  igsibited  in  the 
\  ouses  of  the  nobility,  gentry,  and  rile  fammly. 

But  I  bare  no  mallis — infatuation  is  infamatfon,  and 
it  doesn't  matter  where  the  infamy  comes  from  ;  and 
whether  the  Dairy  be  from  that  distinguished  pen  to 
witch  it  is  ornarily  attributed — whether,  I  say,  it  comes 
from  a  lady  of  honor  to  the  late  quean,  or  a  scullion  to 
that  diffunct  majisty,  no  matter  ;  all  we  ask  is  nollidge, 
never  mind  how  we  have  it.  Nollidge,  as  our  cook  says, 
is  like  trikel-possit — its  always  good,  though  you  was  to 
drink  it  out  of  an  old  shoo. 

Well,  then,  although  this  Dairy  is  likely  searusly 
to  injur  my  pussonal  intrests,  by  fourstalling  a  deal  of 
what  I  had  to  say  in  my  private  memoars — though 
many,  many  guineas,  is  taken  from  my  pockit,  by  cut- 
tin  short  the  tail  of  my  narratif — though  much  that  I 
had  to  say  in  souperior  languidge,  greased  with  all  the 
ellygance  of  my  orytory,  the  benefick  of  my  classicle 
reading,  the  chawms  of  my  agreble  wit,  is  thus  abrup- 
ly  brot  befor  the  world  by  an  inferor  genus,   neither 

interspersed  with  original  Letters  from  the  late  Queen  Caro- 
line, and  from  various  other  distinguished  Persons. 

"  T6t  ou  tard,  tout  se  s$ait." — Malntenon. 
In  2  vok     London,  1838.     Henry  Colburn. 


"THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV."  59 

knowing  nor  writing  English,  yet  I  say,  that  neverthe- 
less I  must  say,  what  I  am  puffickly  prepaired  to  say, 
to  gainsay  which  no  man  can  say  a  word — yet  I  say, 
that  I  say  I  consider  this  publication  welkom.  Far 
from  viewing  it  with  enfy,  I  greet  it  with  applaws  ;  be- 
cause it  increases  that  most  exlent  specious  of  nollidge, 
I  mean  "  Fashnabble  Nollidge  ;"  compayred  to  witch 
all  other  nollidge  is  nonsince — a  bag  of  goold  to  a  pare 
of  snuffers. 

Could  Lord  Broom,  on  the  Canady  question,  say 
moar  ?  or  say  what  he  had  to  say  better  ?  We  are 
marters,  both  of  us,  to  prinsple ;  and  every  body  who 
knows  eather  knows  that  we  would  sacrafice  anythink 
rather  than  that.  Fashion  is  the  goddiss  I  adoar.  This 
delightful  work  is  an  offring  on  her  srine ;  and  as  sich 
all  her  wushippers  are  bound  to  hail  it.  Here  is  not  a 
question  of  trumpry  lords  and  honrabbles,  generals  and 
barronites,  but  the  crown  itself,  and  the  king  and 
queen's  actions  ;  witch  may  be  considered  as  the  crown 
jewels.  Here's  princes,  and  grand-dukes  and  airspar- 
ent,  and  Heaven  knows  what ;  all  with  blood-royal  in 
their  veins,  and  their  names  mentioned  in  the  very  fust 
page  of  the  peeridge.  In  this  book  you  become  so  int- 
mate  with  the  Prince  of  Wales,  that  you  may  follow 
him,  if  you  please,  to  his  marridge-bed ;  or,  if  you  pre- 
fer the  Princiss  Charlotte,  you  may  have  with  her  an 
hour's  tator-tator.* 

Now,  though  most  of  the  remarkable  extrax  from 
this  book  have  been  given  already  (the  cream  of  the 


*  Our  estimable  correspondent  means,  we  presume,  teted- 
tMe.—O.  Y. 


60  THE    VELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

Dairy,  as  I  wittily  say),  I  shall  trouble  you,  neverthe- 
less, with  a  few ;  partly  because  they  can't  be  repeated 
too  often,  and  because  the  toan  of  obs yvation  with  witch 
they  have  been  genrally  received  by  the  press,  is  not 
igsackly  such  as  I  think  they  merit.  How,  indeed,  can 
these  common  magaseen  and  newspaper  pipple  know 
anythink  of  fashnabble  life,  let  alone  ryal  ? 

Conseaving,  then,  that  the  publication  of  the  Dairy 
has  done  reel  good  on  this  scoar,  and  may  probly  do  a 
deal  moor,  I  shall  look  through  it,  for  the  porpus  of  se- 
lecting the  most  ellygant  passidges,  and  which  I  think 
may  be  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  reader's  benefick. 

For  you  see,  my  dear  Mr.  Yorke,  that  in  the  fust 
place,  that  this  is  no  common  catchpny  book,  like  that 
of  most  authors  and  authoresses  who  write  for  the  base 
looker  of  gain.  Heaven  bless  you  !  the  Dairy-maid  is 
above  any  thing  musnary.  She  is  a  woman  of  rank, 
and  no  mistake  ;  and  is  as  much  above  doin  a  common 
or  vulgar  action  as  I  am  supearor  to  taking  beer  after 
dinner  with  my  cheese.  She  proves  that  most  satisfac- 
karily,  as  we  see  in  the  following  passidge  : — 

"Her  royal  highness  came  to  me,  and,  having  spoken  a 
few  phrases  on  different  subjects,  produced  all  the  papers  she 
wishes  to  have  published : — her  whole  correspondence  with 

the  prince  relative  to  Lady  J 's  dismissal ;  his  subsequent 

neglect  of  the  princess ;  and,  finally,  the  acquittal  of  her  sup- 
posed guilt,  signed  by  the  Duke  of  Portland,  «fec,  at  the  time 
of  the  secret  inquiry  :  when,  if  proof  could  have  been  brought 
against  her,  it  certainly  would  have  been  done  ;  and  which  ac- 
quittal, to  the  disgrace  of  all  parties  concerned,  as  well  as  to 
the  justice  of  the  nation  in  general,  was  not  made  public  at  the 
time.  A  common  criminal  is  publicly  condemned  or  acquitted. 
Ber  royal  highness  commanded  me  to  have  these  letters  pub- 


''THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV."  61 


lished  forthwith,  saying,  '  You  may  sell  them  for  a  great  sum.' 
At  first  (for  she  had  spoken  to  me  before  concerning  this  busi- 
ness), I  thought  of  availing  myself  of  the  opportunity  ;  but> 
upon  second  thoughts,  I  turned  from  this  idea  with  detesta- 
tion :  for,  if  I  do  wrong  by  obeying  her  wishes  j.nd  endeavour- 
ing to  serve  her,  I  will  do  so  at  least  from  good  and  disinter- 
ested motives,  not  from  any  soi-did  views.  The  princess  com- 
mands me,  and  I  will  obey  her,  whatever  may  be  the  issue ; 
but  not  for  fare  or  fee.  I  own  I  tremble,  not  so  much  for 
myself,  as  for  the  idea  that  she  is  not  taking  the  best  and 
most  dignified  way  of  having  these  papers  published.  Why 
make  a  secret  of  it  at  all  ?  If  wrong,  it  should  not  be  done ; 
if  right,  it  should  be  done  openly,  and  in  the  face  of  her  ene- 
mies. In  her  royal  highness's  case,  as  in  that  of  wronged 
princes  in  general,  why  do  they  shrink  from  straightforward 
dealings,  and  rather  have  recourse  to  crooked  policy  ?  I  wish, 
in  this  particular  instance,  I  could  make  her  royal  highness 
feel  thus:  but  she  is  naturally  indignant  at  being  falsely  ac- 
cused, and  will  not  condescend  to  an  avowed  explanation.' " 

Can  anything  be  more  just  and  honrabble  than 
this?  The  Dairy-lady  is  quite  fair  and  abovebored. 
A  clear  stage,  sav>  she,  and  no  faviour  !  "  I  won't  do  be- 
hind my  back  what  I  am  ashamed  of  before  my  face : 
not  I !"  No  more  she  does  ;  for  you  see  that,  though 
she  was  offered  this  manyscrip  by  the  princess  for  no- 
think,  though  she  knew  that  she  could  aerially  get  for 
it  a  large  sum  of  money,  she  was  above  it,  like  an  hon- 
est, noble,  grateful,  faslmabble  woman,  as  she  was.  She 
aboars  secrecy,  and  never  will  have  recors  to  disguise  or 
crookid  polacy.  This  ought  to  be  an  ansure  to  them 
Raddicle  sneerers,  who  pretend  that  they  are  the  equals 
of  fashnabble  pepple ;  whareas  it's  a  well-known  fact, 
that  the  vulgar  roagues  have  no  notion  of  honour. 

And  after  this  positif  declaration,  which  reflex  hon- 


62  THE    YELLOW-PUSH    PAPERS. 

or  on  her  ladyship  (long  life  to  her !  I've  often  waited 
behind  her  chair !) — after  this  positif  declaration,  that, 
even  for  the  porpus  of  defending  her  missis,  she  was  so 
hi-mindid  as  to  refuse  anythinlc  like  a  peculiary  con- 
sideration, it  is  actially  asserted  in  the  public  prints  by 
a  booxeller,  that  he  has  given  her  a  thousand  pound 
for  the  Dairy.  A  thousand  pound  !  nonsince  ! — it's  a 
phigment !  a  base  lible  !  This  woman  take  a  thousand 
pound,  in  a  matter  where  her  dear  mistriss,  frend,  and 
benyfactriss  was  concerned  !  Never  !  A  thousand  bag- 
gonits  would  be  more  prefrabble  to  a  woman  of  her 
xquizzit  feelins  and  fashion. 

But,  to  proseed.  It's  been  objected  to  me,  when  I 
wrote  some  of  my  expearunces  in  fashnabble  life,  that 
my  languidge  was  occasionally  vulgar,  and  not  such  as 
is  generally  used  in  those  exquizzit  famlies  which  I  fre- 
quent. Now,  I'll  lay  a  wrager  that  there  is  in  this  book, 
wrote  as  all  the  world  knows,  by  a  rele  lady,  and  speak- 
in  of  kings  and  queens  as  if  they  were  as  common  as 
sand-boys — there  is  in  this  book  more  wulgarity  than 
ever  I  displayed,  more  nastiness  than  ever  I  would  dare 
to  think  on,  and  more  bad  grammar  than  ever  I  wrote 
since  I  was  a  boy  at  school.  As  for  authografy,  evry 
genlm  has  his  own :  never  mind  spellin,  I  say,  so  long 
as  the  sence  is  right. 

Let  me  here  quot  a  letter  from  a  corryspondent  of 
this  charming  lady  of  honour ;  and  a  very  nice,  corry- 
spondent  he  is,  too,  without  any  mistake  : 

•'  Lady  0 ,  poor  Lady  0 !  knows  the  rules  of  pru- 

dence,  I  fear  roe,  as  imperfectly  as  she  doth  those  of  the  Greek 
and  t-Jitin  Grammars:  or  she  hath  1<4  h^r  brother,  who  is  a  sad 


"THK    DAIR1     OF    GEORGE    IV."  63 

swine,  become  master  of  her  secret.-,  and  then  contrived  to 
quarrel  with  him.     You  would  see  the  outline  of  the  melange  in 

the  newspapers;  but  not  the  report  thai  Mr.  S is  about  to 

publish  a  pamphlet,  as  an  addition  to  the  Harleian  Tracts,  set- 
ting forth  the  amatory  adventures  of  his  sister.  We  shall 
break  our  necks  in  haste  to  buy  it,  of  course  crying  'Shame- 
ful' all  the  while;  and  it  is  said  that  Lady  0 is  to  be  cut, 

which  I  cannot  entirely  believe.  Let  her  tell  two  or  three  old 
women  about  town  that  they  are  young  and  handsome,  and 
give  some  well-timed  parties,  and  she  may  :till  keep  the  society 
which  she  hath  been  used  to.  The  times  are  not  so  hard  as 
they  once  were,  when  a  .woman  could  not  construe  Magna 
Charta  with  any  thing  like  impunity.  People  were  full  as  gal- 
lant many  years  ago.  But  the  days  are  gone  by  wherein  my 
lord-protector  of  the  commonwealth  of  England  was  wont  to 
go  a  love-making  to  Mrs.  Fleetwood,  with  the  Bible  under  his 
arm. 

"And  so  Miss  Jacky  Gordon  is  really  clothed  with  a  hus- 
band at  last,  and  Miss  Laura  Manners  left  without  a  mate! 
She  and  Lord  Stair  should  marry  and  have  children,  in  mere 
revenge.  As  to  Miss  Gordon,  she's  a  Venus  well  suited  for 
such  a  Vulcan, — whom  nothing  but  money  and  a  title  could 
have  rendered  tolerable,  even  to  a  kitchen  wench.  It  is  said 
that  the  matrimonial  correspondence  between  this  couple  is  to 
be  published,  full  of  sad  scandalous  relations,  of  which  you  may 
be  sure  scarcely  a  word  is  true.  In  former  times,  the  Duchess  of 
St.  A 's  made  use  of  these  elegant  epistles,  in  order  to  in- 
timidate Lady  Johnstone :  but  that  ruse  would  not  avail ;  so, 
in  spite,  they  are  to  be  printed.  "What  a  cargo  of  amiable 
creatures!  Yet  will  some  people  scarcely  believe  in  the  exist- 
ence of  Pandemonium. 

•'  Tuesday  morning. — You  are  perfectly  right  respecting  the 
hot  rooms  here,  which  we  all  cry  out  against,  and  all  find  very 
comfortable — much  more  so  than  the  cold  sands  and  bleak 
neighbourhood  of  the  sea ;  which  looks  vastly  well  in  one  of 
Vander  Yelde's    pictures    hung    upon    crimson    damask,    but 

hideous  and  shocking  in  reality.     H and  his  '  elle  (talking 

of  parties)  were  last  night  at  Cholmondeley  House,  but  seem 


64  THE    YELLOWPLISH    PAPERS. 

not  to  ripen  in  their  love.  He  is  certainly  good-humoured, 
and,  I  believe,  good-hearted,  so  deserves  a  good  wife;  but  his 
cara  seems  a  genuine  London  miss,  made  up  of  many  affecta- 
tions. "Will  she  form  a  comfortable  helpmate  ?  For  me,  I  like 
not  her  origin,  and  deem  many  strange  things  to  run  in  blood, 
besides  madness  and  the  Hanoverian  evil. 

"  TJtursday. — I  verily  do  believe  that  I  shall  never  get  to 
the  end  of  this  small  sheet  of  paper,  so  many  unheard  of  in- 
terruptions  have  I  had ;  and  now  I  have  been  to  Vauxhall, 

and  caught  the  tooth-ache.     I  was  of  Lady  E.  B m  and 

H 's  party:  very  dull — the  Lady  giving  us  all  a  supper 

after  our  promenade — 

'  Much  ado  was  there,  God  wot ; 
She  would  love,  but  he  would  not.' 

He  ate  a  great  deal  of  ice,  although  he  did  not  seem  to  re- 
quire it ;  and  she  'faisoit  les  yeux  doux,'  enough  not  only  to 
have  melted  all  the  ice  which  he  swallowed,  but  his  own  hard 
heart  into  the  bargain.  The  thing  will  not  do.  In  the  mean 
time,  Miss  Long  hath  become  quite  crael  to  Wellesley  Pole,  and 
divides  her  favour  equally  between  Lords  Killeen  and  Kil- 
worth,  two  as  simple  Irishmen  as  ever  gave  birth  to  a  bull.  I 
wish  to  Hymen  that  she  were  fairly  married,  for  all  this  pother 
gives  one  a  disgusting  picture  of  human  nature." 

A  disgusting  pictur  of  human  nature,  indeed — and 
isn't  he  who  moralises  about  it,  and  she  to  whom  he 
writes,  a  couple  of  pretty  heads  in  the  same  piece  ? 
"Which,  Mr.  Yorke,  is  the  wust,  the  scandle  or  the  scan- 
dle-mongers  ?  See  what  it  is  to  be  amoral  man  offashn. 
Fust,  he  scrapes  togither  all  the  bad  stoaries  about  all 
the  |mm,],]c  of  his  acquentance — he  goes  to  a  ball,  and 
laffs  or  snears  at  everybody  there — he  is  asked  to  a 
dinner,  and  brings  away,  along  with  meat  and  wine  to 
his  heart's  content,  a  sour  stomick,  filled  with  nasty 
ttnri.-s  of  all  the  people  present  there.     He  has  such   a 


"THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV."  65 

squeamish  appytite,  that  all  the  world  seems  to  disagree 
with  him.  And  what  has  he  got  to  say  to  his  dellicate 
female  frend  ?     Why  that — 

Fust.  Mr.  S.  is  going  to  publish  indesent  stoaries 

about  Lady  O ,  his  sister,  which  everybody's  goin 

to  by. 

Nex.  That  Miss  Gordon  is  going  to  be  cloathed 
with  an  usband ;  and  that  all  their  matramonial  corry- 
spondins  is  to  be  published  too. 

3.  That  Lord  H.  is  goin  to  be  married  ;  but  there's 
something  rong,  in  his  wife's  blood. 

4.  Miss  Long  has  cut  Mr.  Weilesley,  and  is  gone 
after  two  Irish  lords. 

Wooden  you  pliancy,  now,  that  the  author  of  such 
a  letter,  instead  of  writin  about  pipple  of  tip-top  quala- 
ty,  was  describin  Vinegar  Yard  ?  Would  you  beleave 
that  the  lady  he  was  a  ritin  to  was  a  chased,  modist  lady 
of  honour,  and  mother  of  a  famly  ?  0  trumpery,  0 
morris/  as  Homer  says,  this  is  a  higeous  pictur  of  man- 
ners, such  as  I  weap  to  think  of,  as  evry  morl  man 
must  weap. 

The  above  is  one  pritty  pictur  of  mearly  fashnabble 
life :  what  follows  is  about  famlies  even  higher  situated 
than  the  most  fashnabble.  Here  we  have  the  princess- 
regint,  her  daughter  the  Princess  Sharlot,  her  grand- 
mamma the  old  quean,  and  her  madjisty  daughters  the 
two  princesses.  If  this  is  not  high  life,  I  don't  know- 
where  it  is  to  be  found ;  and  it's  pleasing  to  see  what 
affeckshn  and  harmny  rains  in  such  an  exolted  spear. 

"  Sunday,  2-ith. — Yesterday,  the  princess  went  to  meet  the 
Princess  Charlotte  at  Kensington.     Lady told  me  that^ 


66  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

■when  the  latter  arrived,  she  rushed  up  to  her  mother,  and 
said,  'For  God's  sake,  be  civil  to  her,'  meaning  the  Duchess  of 

Leeds,  who  followed  her.     Lady said  she  felt  sorry  for 

the  latter ;  but  when  the  Princess  of  Wales  talked  to  her,  she 
soon  became  so  free  and  easy,  that  one  could  not  have  any 
feeling  about  her  feelings.  Princess  Charlotte,  I  was  told,  was 
looking  handsome,  very  pale,  but  her  head  more  becomingly 
dressed, — that  is  to  say,  less  dressed  than  usual.  Her  figure  is 
of  that  full  round  shape  which  is  now  in  its  prime ;  but  she 
disfigures  herself  by  wearing  her  boddice  so  short,  that  she 
literally  has  no  waist.  Her  feet  are  very  pretty ;  and  so  are 
her  hands  and  arms,  and  her  ear,  and  the  shape  of  her  head. 
Her  countenance  is  expressive,  when  she  allows  her  passions 
to  play  upon  it;  and  I  never  saw  any  face,  with  so  little  shade, 

express  so  many  powerful  and  varied   emotions.     Lady 

told  me  that  the  Princess  Charlotte  talked  to  her  about  her 
situation,  and  said,  in  a  very  quiet,  but  determined  way,  she 
woxdd  not  bear  it,  and  that,  as  soon  as  parliament  met,  she  in- 
tended to  come  to  Warwick  House,  and  remain  there ;  that 
she  was  also  determined  not  to  consider  the  Duchess  of  Leeds 
as  her  governess,  but  only  as  her  first  lady.  She  made  many 
observations  on  other  persons  and  subjects  ;  and  appears  to  be 
very  quick,  very  penetrating,  but  imperious  and  wilful.  There 
is  a  tone  of  romance,  too,  in  her  character,  which  will  only 
serve  to  mislead  her. 

"  She  told  her  mother  that  there  had  been  a  great  battle  at 
Windsor  between  the  queen  and  the  prince,  the  former  refus- 
ing to  give  up  Miss  Knight  from  her  own  person  to  attend  on 
Princess  Charlotte  .as  sub-governess.  But  the  prince-regent 
had  gone  to  Windsor  himself,  and  insisted  on  her  doing  so; 
and  the  'old  Beguin'  was  forced  to  submit,  but  has  been  ill 
ever  since:  and  Sir  Henry  Halford  declared  it  was  a  complete 
breaking  up  of  her  constitution — to  the  great  delight  of  the 
two  princesses,  who  were  talking  about  this  affair.  Miss 
Knight  was  the  very  person  they  wished  to  have ;  they  think 
they  can  do  as  they  like  with  her.  It  had  been  ordered  that 
the  Princess  Charlo.tte  should  not  see  her  mother  alone  for  a 
riii_'l'-  hi'.iim-iiI  ;   but   tin-  'alter   went  into  her  room,  stuffed  a 


"THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV."  67 

pair  of  large  shoes  full  of  papers,  and,  having  given  them  to 

her  daughter,  she  went  home.      Lady  told  me  every 

thing  was  written   down,  and    sent  to  Mr.   Brougham   next 
day." 

See  what  dish  cord  will  creap  even  into  the  best  reg- 
ulated famlies.  Here  are  six  of  'em — viz.,  the  quean 
and  her  two  daughters,  her  son,  and  his  wife  und 
daughter;  and  the  manner  in  which  they  hate  one 
another  is  a  compleat  puzzle. 

(    his  mother. 

The  Prince  hates }    his  wife. 

(    his  daughter. 

Princess  Charlotte  hates  her  father. 

Princess  of  Wales  hates  her  husband. 

The  old  quean,  by  their  squobbles,  is  on  the  pint  of 
death  ;  and  her  two  jewtiful  daughters  are  delighted  at 
the  news.  What  a  happy,  fashnabble,  Christian  famly  ! 
O  Mi\  Yorke,  Mr.  Yorke,  if  this  is  the  way  in  the  drawin 
rooms,  I'm  quite  content  to  live  below,  in  pease  and 
charaty  with  all  men  ;  writin,  as  I  am  now,  in  my  pan- 
try, or  els  havin  a  quite  game  at  cards  in  the  servants- 
all.  With  us  there's  no  bitter,  wicked,  quarling  of 
this  sort.  We  don't  hate  our  children,  or  bully  our 
mothers,  or  wish  em  ded  when  they're  sick,  as  this 
Dairy-woman  says  kings  and  queans  do.  When  we're 
writing  to  our  friends  or  sweethearts,  we  don't  fill  our 
letters  with  nasty  stoaries,  takin  away  the  carricter  of 
our  fellow-servants,  as  this  maid  of  honour's  amusin, 
moral,  trend  does.  But,  in  coarse,  it's  not  for  us  to  judge 
of  our  betters  ; — these  great  people  are  a  supearur  race, 
and  we  can't  comprehend  their  ways. 

Do  you  reeklect — it's  twenty  years  ago  now — how 


68  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

a  bewtiffle  princess  died  in  givin  buth  to  a  poar  baby, 
and  how  the  whole  nation  of  Hengland  wep,  as  though 
it  was  one  man,  over  that  sweet  woman  and  child,  in 
which  were  sentered  the  hopes  of  every  one  of  us,  and 
of  which  each  was  as  proud  as  of  his  own  wife  or  infnt  ? 
Do  you  recklect  how  pore  fellows  spent  their  last  shillin 
to  buy  a  black  crape  for  their  hats,  and  clergymen  cried 
in  the  pulpit,  and  the  whole  country  through  was  no 
better  than  a  great  dismal  funeral  ?  Do  you  recklect, 
Mr.  Yorke,  who  was  the  person  that  we  all  took  on  so 
about '{  We  called  her  the  Princiss  Sharlot  of  Wales  ; 
and  we  valyoud  a  single  drop  of  her  blood  more  than 
the  whole  heartless  body  of  her  father.  Well,  we  look- 
ed up  to  her  as  a  kind  of  saint  or  angle,  and  blest  God 
(such  foolish  loyal  English  pipple  as  we  ware  in  those 
days)  who  had  sent  this  sweet  lady  to  rule  over  us. 
But,  Heaven  bless  you  !  it  was  only  souperstition.  She 
was  no  better  than  she  should  be,  as  it  turns  out — or  at 
least  the  Dairy -maid  says  so — no  better  ? — if  my  daugh- 
ters or  yours  was  \  so  bad,  we'd  as  leaf  be  dead  our- 
selves, and  they  hanged.  But  listen  to  this  pritty  char- 
ritable  stony,  and  a  truce  to  reflexshuns : — 

"Sunday,  January  9,  1814. — Yesterday,  according  to  ap- 
pointment, I  went  to  Princess  Charlotte.  Found  at  Warwick 
House  the  harp-player  Dizzi ;  was  asked  to  remain  and  listen 
to  his  performance,  but  was  talked  to  during  the  whole  time, 
which  completely  prevented  all  possibility  of  listening  to  the 
music.  The  Duchess  of  Leeds  and  her  daughter  were  in  the 
room,  but  left  it  soon.  Next  arrived  Miss  Knight,  who  re- 
mained all  the  time  I  was  there.     Princess  Charlotte  was  very 

gracious — showed  me  all  her  bonny  dyes,  as  B- would  have 

calif]  tli. in — pictures,  and  cases,  and  jewels,  &c.  She  talked 
in  a  very  desultory  way,  ami    it    would   be  difficult  to  say  of 


"THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV."  69 

what.  She  observed  her  mother  was  in  very  low  spirits.  I 
asked  her  how  she  supposed  she  could  be  otherwise  ?  This 
questioning  answer  saves  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  serves 
two  purposes — i.  e.  avoids  committing  oneself,  or  giving  offence 
by  silence.     There  was  hung  in  the  apartment  one  portrait, 

amongst  others,  that  very  much  resembled  the  Duke  of  D 

I  asked  Miss  Knight  whom  it  represented.  She  said  that  was 
not  known  ;  it  had  been  supposed  a  likeness  of  the  Pretender, 
when  young.  This  answer  suited  my  thoughts  so  comically  I 
could  have  laughed,  if  one  ever  did  at  courts  any  thing  but  the 
contrary  of  what  one  was  inclined  to  do. 

"  Princess  Charlotte  has  a  very  great  variety  of  expression 
in  her  countenance — a  play  of  features,  and  a  force  of  muscle, 
rarely  seen  in  connection  with  such  soft  and  shadeless  colour- 
ing. Her  hands  and  arms  are  beautiful ;  but  I  think  her  figure 
is  already  gone,  and  will  soon  be  precisely  like  her  mother's : 
in  short,  it  is  the  very  picture  of  her,  and  not  in  miniature.  I 
could  not  help  analyzing  my  own  sensations  during  the  time  I 
was  with  her,  and  thought  more  of  them  than  I  did  of  her. 
Why  was  I  at  all  flattered,  at  all  more  amused,  at  all  more 
supple  to  this  young  princess,  than  to  her  who  is  only  the 
same  sort  of  person,  set  in  the  shade  of  circumstances  and  of 
years  ?  It  is  that  youth,  and  the  approach  of  power,  and  the 
latent  views  of  self-interest,  sway  the  heart  and  dazzle  the  un- 
derstanding. If  this  is  so  with  a  heart  not,  I  trust,  corrupt, 
and  a  head  not  particularly  formed  for  interested  calculations, 
what  effect  must  not  the  same  causes  produce  on  the  generality 
of  mankind  I 

"In  the  course  of  the  conversation,  the  Princess  Charlotte 
contrived  to  edge  in  a  good  deal  of  tum-de-dy,  and  would,  if  I 
had  entered  into  the  thing,  have  gone  on  with  it,  while  look- 
ing at  a  little  picture  of  herself,  which  had  about  thirty  or 
forty  different  dresses  to  put  over  it,  done  on  isinglass,  and 
which  allowed  the  general  colouring  of  the  picture  to  be  seen 
through  its  transparency.  It  was,  I  thought,  a  pretty  enough 
conceit,  though  rather  like  dressing  up  a  doll.  'Ah!'  said 
Miss  Knight,   'I  am  not  content  though,   madam — for  T    vet 


70  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

should  have  liked  one  more  dress — that  of  the  favourite  Sul- 
tana.' 

" '  No,  no  1'  said  the  princess,  '  I  never  was  a  favourite,  and 
never  can  be  one,' — looking  at  a  picture  which  she  said  was  her 
father's,  hut  which  I  do  not  believe  was  done  for  the  Regent 
any  more  than  for  me,  but  represented  a  young  man  in  a  hus- 
sar's dress — probably  a  former  favourite. 

"The  Princess  Charlotte  seemed  much  hurt  at  the  little  no- 
tice that  was  taken  of  her  birthday.  After  keeping  me  for 
two  hours  and  a  half  she  dismissed  me ;  and  I  am  sure  I  could 
not  say  what  she  said,  except  that  it  was  an  olio  of  dec.  nsus 
and  heterogeneous  things,  partaking  of  the  characteristics  of 
her  mother,  grafted  on  a  younger  scion.  I  dined  tete-a-tete 
with  my  dear  old  aunt:  hers  is  always  a  sweet  and  soothing 
society  to  me." 

There's  a  pleasing,  lady-like,  moral  extrack  for  you  ! 
An  innocent  young  thing  of  fifteen  has  picturs  of  two 
lovers  in  her  room,  and  expex  a  good  number  more. 
This  dellygate  young  creature  edges  in  a  good  deal  of 
tnmdedy  (I  can't  find  it  in  Johnson's  Dixionary),  and 
would  have  gone  on  with  the  thing  (ellygence  of  lan- 
guidge),  if  the  dairy-lady  would  have  let  her. 

Now,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Yorke,  I  doant  De- 
leave a  single  syllible  of  this  story.  This  lady  of  hon- 
ner  says,  in  the  fust  place,  that  the  princess  would  have 
talked  a  good  deal  of  tumdedy  :  which  means,  I  suppose, 
indeasnsy,  if  she,  the  lady  of  honner  would  have  let  her. 
This  is  a  good  one !  Why,  she  lets  every  body  else 
talk  tumdedy  to  their  hearts'  content;  she  lets  her 
friends  write  tumdedy,  and,  after  keeping  it  for  a  quar- 
ter of  a  sentry,  she  prints  it.  Why,  then,  be  so  squea- 
mish about  hearing  a  little  !  And,  then,  there's  the 
stoary  of  the  two  portricks.     This  woman  has  the  lion- 


"the  dairy  of  george  iv."  71 

ner  to  be  received  in  the  frendlyest  manner  by  a  British 
princess;  and  what,  does  the  grateful  loyal  creature  do  ? 
2  picture  of  the  princess's  relations  are  hanging  in  her 
room,  and  the  dairy-woman  swears  away  the  poor 
young  princess's  carrickter,  by  swearing  they  are  pic- 
turs  of  her  lovers.  For  shame,  oh,  for  shame  !  you  slan- 
derin  backbitin,  dairy-woman  you!  If  you  told  all 
them  things  to  your  "dear  old  aunt,"  on  going  to  dine 
with  her,  you  must  have  have  had  very  "  sweet  and 
soothing  society,"  indeed. 

I  had  marked  out  many  in  oar  extrax,  witch  I  in- 
tended to  write  about ;  but  I  think  I  have  said  enough 
about  this  Dairy :  in  fack,  the  butler,  and  the  gals  in 
the  servants'  hall,  are  not  well  pleased  that  I  should  go 
on  readin  this  naughty  book ;  so  we'll  have  no  more  of 
it,  only  one  passidge  about  Pollytics,  witch  is  sertnly 
quite  new  : — 

"No  one  was  so  likely  to  be  able  to  defeat  Bonaparte  as 
the  Crown  Prince,  from  the  intimate  knowledge  he  possessed 
of  his  character.  Bemadotte  was  also  instigated  against  Bona- 
parte by  one  who  not  only  owed  him  a  personal  hatred,  but 
who  possessed  a  mind  equal  to  his,  and  who  gave  the  Crown 
Prince  both  information  and  advice  how  to  act.  This  was  no 
less  a  person  than  Madame  de  Stael.  It  was  not,  as  some  have 
asserted,  that  she  was  in  love  with  Bemadotte ;  for,  at  the  time 
of  thtir  intimacy,  Madame  de  Stael  was  in  love  with  Rocca. 
But  she  used  her  influence  (which  was  not  small)  with  the 
Ciown  Prince,  to  make  him  fight  against  Bonaparte,  and  to 
her  wisdom  may  be  attributed  much  of  the  success  which  ac- 
companied his  attack  upon  him.  Bemadotte  has  raised  the 
flame  of  liberty,  which  seems  fortunately  to  blaze  all  around. 
May  it  liberate  Europe  ;  and  from  the  ashes  of  the  laurel  may 
olive  branches  spring  up,  and  overshadow  the  earth!" 


72  THE    VELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

There's  a  discuvery !  that  the  overthrow  of  Boney- 
part  is  owing  to  Madame  de  Stael !  AVhat  nonsince 
for  Colonel  Southey,  or  Doctor  Napier,  to  write  histories 
of  the  war  with  that  Capsican  hupstart  and  murderer, 
when  here  we  have  the  whole  affair  explaned  by  the 
lady  of  honour ! 

"  Sunday,  April  10,  1814. — The  incidents  which  take  place 
every  hour  are  miraculous.  Bonaparte  is  deposed,  but  alive ; 
subdued,  but  allowed  to  choose  his  place  of  residence.  The 
bland  of  Elba  is  the  spot  he  has  selected  for  his  ignominious 
retreat.  France  is  holding  forth  repentant  arms  to  her  ban- 
ished sovereign.  The  Poissardes  who  dragged  Louis  XVI.  to 
the  scaffold  are  presenting  flowers  to  the  Emperor  of  Russia, 
the  restorer  of  their  legitimate  king  !  What  a  stupendous  field 
for  philosophy  to  expatiate  in !  What  an  endless  material  for 
thought !  What  humiliation  to  the  pride  of  mere  human 
greatness!  How  are  the  mighty  fallen!  Of  all  that  was 
great  in  Napoleon,  what  remains  ?  Despoiled  of  his  usurped 
power,  he  sinks  to  insignificance.  There  was  no  moral  great- 
ness in  the  man.  The  meteor  dazzled,  scorched,  is  put  out, — 
utterly,  Mini  for  ever.  But  the  power  which  rests  in  those 
who  have  delivered  the  nations  from  bondage,  is  a  power  that 
is  delegated  to  them  from  Heaven  ;  and  the  manner  in  which 
they  have  used  it  is  a  guarantee  for  its  continuance.  The 
Duke  of  Wellington  has  gained  laurels  unstained  by  any  use- 
less flow  of  blood.  He  has  done  more  than  conquer  others — 
he  has  conquered  himself:  and  in  the  midst  of  the  blaze  and 
flush  of  victory,  surrounded  by  the  homage  of  nations,  he  has 
not  been  betrayed  into  the  commission  of  any  act  of  cruelty  or 
wanton  offence.  He  was  as  cool  and  self-possessed  under  the 
blaze  and  dazzle  of  fame  as  a  common  man  would  be  under  the 
shade  of  his  garden-tree,  or  by  the  hearth  of  his  home.  But 
the  tyrant  who  kept  Europe  in  awe  is  now  a  pitiable  object 
for  scorn  to  point  the  finger  of  derision  at;  and  humanity 
shudders  as  it  remembers  the  scourge  with  which  this  man's 


"THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV."  73 

ambition  was  permitted  to  devastate  every  home  tie,  and  every 
heartfelt  joy." 

And  now,  after  this  sublime  passidge,  as  full  of 
awfle  reflections  and  pious  sentyments  as  those  of  Mrs. 
Cole  in  the  play,  I  shall  only  quot  one  little  extrack 
more : — 

"  All  goes  gloomily  with  the  poor  princess.  Lady  Charlotte 
Campbell  told  me  she  regrets  not  seeing  all  these  curious  per- 
sonages ;  but  she  says,  the  more  the  princess  is  forsaken,  the 
more  happy  she  is  at  having  offered  to  attend  her  at  this  time. 
This  is  very  amiable  in  her,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  gratifying  to 
the  princess." 

So  it  is — wery  amiable,  wery  kind  and  considdrate 
in  her,  indeed.  Poor  Princess  !  how  lucky  you  was  to 
find  a  frend  who  loved  you  for  your  own  sake,  and 
when  all  the  rest  of  the  wuld  turned  its  back  kep  steady 
to  you.  As  for  Deleaving  that  Lady  Sharlot  had  any 
hand  in  this  book,*  Heaven  forbid !  she  is  all  gratitude, 
pure  gratitude,  depend  upon  it.  She  would  not  go  for 
to  blacken  her  old  frend  and  patron's  carrickter,  after 
having  been  so  outragusly  faithful  to  her  ;  she  wouldn't 
do  it,  at  no  price,  depend  upon  it.  How  sorry  she 
must  be  that  others  a'nt  quite  so  squemish,  and  show 
up  in  this  indesent  way  the  follies  of  her  kind,  genrus, 
foolish  bennyfactriss !  • 

*  The  "authorized"  announcement,  in  the  John  Bull  news- 
paper, sets  this  question  at  rest.  It  is  declared  that  her  lady- 
ship is  not  the  writer  of  the  Diary. — O.  Y, 


74  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


FORIXG  PARTS. 

It  was  a  singular  proof  of  my  master's  modesty,  that 
though  he  had  won  this  andsome  sum  of  Mr.  Dawkins, 
and  was  inclined  to  be  as  extravygant  and  osntatious 
as  any  man  I  ever  seed,  yet,  wen  he  determined  on  go- 
ing to  Paris,  he  didn't  let  a  single  frend  know  of  all 
them  winnings  of  his,  didn't  acquaint  my  Lord  Crabs, 
his  father,  that  he  was  about  to  leave  his  natiff  shears — 
neigh,  didn't  even  so  much  as  call  together  his  trades- 
min,  and  pay  oft*  their  little  bills  befor  his  departure. 

On  the  contry,  "  Chawles,"  said  he  to  me,  "  stick  a 
piece  of  paper  on  my  door,"  which  is  the  way  that 
lawyers  do,  and  write  '  Back  at  seven'  upon  it."  Back 
at  seven  I  wrote,  and  stuck  it  on  our  outer  oak.  And 
so  mistearus  was  Deuceace  about  his  continental  tour 
(to  all  excep  me),  that  when  the  landriss  brought  him 
her  account  for  the  last  month  (amountain,  at  the  very 
least,  to  21.  10s.),  master  told  her  to  leave  it  till  Monday 
mornin,  when  it  should  be  properly  settled.  It's  ex- 
trophy how  irkonomical  a  man  becomes,  when  he's  got 
five  thousand  lbs.  in  his  pockit. 

Back  at  1  indeed !  At  7  we  were  a  roalin  on  the 
Dover  Road,  in  the  Reglator  Coach — master  inside,  me 
out.  A  strange  company  of  people  there  was,  too,  in 
that  wehiele, — 3  sailors  ;  an  Italyin,  with  his  nniMc-box 
and    munky  ;    a    missionary,    going    to    convert    the 


MR.    DEI  <i:  \<  'l  .  75 


heathens  in  France;  2  oppra  girls  (they  call  'em  figure- 
aunts),  ami  the  figure-aunts'  mothers  inside;  4  French- 

min,  with  gingybred  caps,  and  mustashes,  singin,  chat- 
terin,  and  jesticklating  in  the  most  vonderful  vay. 
Such  compliments  as  passed  between  them  and  the 
figure-aunts!  such  a  munchin  of  biskits  and  sippin  of 
brandy !  such  0  mong  Jews,  and  0  sacrrre's,  and  kill 
fay  frwaivs  !  I  didn't  understand  their  Ianguidge  al 
that  time,  so  of  course  can't  igsplain  much  of  their  con- 
wersation  ;  but  it  pleased  me,  nevertheless,  for  now  I 
felt  that  I  was  reely  going  into  foring  parts,  which,  ever 
sins  I  had  had  any  edication  at  all,  was  always  my  fondest 
wish.  Heaven  bless  us  !  thought  I,  if  these  are  specimeens 
<>f  all  Frenchmen,  what  a  set  they  must  be.  The  pore 
Italyin's  monky,  sittin  mopin  and  meluncolly  on  his  box, 
was  not  half  so  ugly,  and  seamed  quite  as  reasonabble. 

Well,  we  arrived  at  Dover — Ship  Hotel — weal  rut- 
lets  half  a  ginny,  glas  of  ale  a  shilling,  glas  of  neagush, 
half-a-crownd,  a  hapn'y-worth  of  wax-lites  four  shillings, 
and  so  on.  But  master  paid  without  grumling ;  as 
long  as  it  was  fur  himself,  he  never  minded  the  expens : 
and  nex  day  we  embarked  in  the  packit  for  Balong  sir 
mare — which  means  in  French,  the  town  of  Balono-  sit- 
youated  on  the  sea.  I,  who  had  heard  of  foring  won- 
ders, expected  this  to  be  the  fust  and  greatest  :  phansy, 
then,  my  disapintment,  when  we  got  there,  to  find  this 
Balong,  not  sityouated  on  the  sea,  but  on  .he  shear. 

But,  oh !  the  gettin  there  was  the  bisniss.  How  1 
did  wish  for  Pump  Court  agin,  as  we  were  tawsing 
abowt  in  the  Channel !  Gentle  reader,  av  you  ever 
been  on  tin-  otion  ? — "The  sea,  the  sea,  the  hopen  sea  !" 
as  Barry  Cromwell  says.     As  soon  as   we  entered   our 


THE    YELLOW  II .1  Ml     TAPERS. 


little  wessel,  and  I'd  looked  to  master's  luggitch  and 
mine  (mine  was  rapt  up  in  a  very  small  hankercher), 
as  soon,  I  say,  as  we  entered  our  little  wessel,  as 
soon  as  I  saw  the  waives,  black  and  frothy,  like 
fresh-drawn  porter,  a  dashin  against  the  ribbs  of  our 
galliant  bark,  the  keal,  like  a  wedge,  splittin  the  billoes 
in  two,  the  sales  a  flaffin  in  the  hair,  the  standard  of 
Hengland  floating  at  the  mask-head,  the  steward  a  get- 
tin  ready  the  basins  and  things,  the  capting  proudly 
tredding  the  deck  and  givin  orders  to  the  salers,  the 
white  rox  of  Albany  and  the  bathin-masheens  disappear- 
ing in  the  distans — then,  then  I  felt,  for  the  first  time, 
the  mite,  the  madgisty  of  existence.  "  Yellowplush,  my 
boy,"  said  I,  in  a  dialog  with  myself,  "  your  life  is  now 
about  to  commens — your  carear,  as  a  man,  dates  from 
your  entrans  on  board  this  packit.  Be  wise,  be  manly, 
be  cautious — forgit  the  follies  of  your  youth.  You  are 
no  longer  a  boy  now,  but  a  footman.  Throw  down 
your  tops,  your  marbles,  your  boyish  games — throw  off 
your  childish   habbits  with  your  inky  clerk's  jackit — 

throw  up  your " 

***** 

Here,  I  recklect,  I  was  obleeged  to  stopp.  A  fealin, 
in  the  fust  place  singlar,  in  the  nex  place  painful,  and 
at  last  compleatly  overpowering,  had  come  upon  me 
while  I  was  making  the  abuff  speach,  and  I  now  found 
myself  in  a  sityouation  which  Dellixy  for  Bids  me  to  dis- 
cribe.  Suffis  to  say,  that  now  I  dixcovered  what  ba- 
sins was  made  for — that  for  many,  many  hours,  I  lay  in 
a  hagony  of  exostion,  dead  to  all  intence  and  porpuses, 
the  rain  pattering  in  my  face,  the  salers  tramplink  over 
my    body — the    panes  of  purgertory  going  on  inside. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  77 


When  we'd  been  about  four  hours  in  this  sityouation 
(it  seam'd  to  me  four  ears),  the  steward  comes  to  that 
part  of  the  deck  where  we  servants  were  all  huddled  up 
together,  and  calls  out,  "  Charles !" 

"  Well,"  says  I,  gurgling  out  a  faint  "  yes,  what's 
the  matter  ?" 

"  You're  wanted." 

"Where?" 

"Your  master's  wery  ill,"  says  he  with  a  grin. 

"  Master  be  hanged  !"  says  I,  turning  round  more 
misrable  than  ever.  I  woodn't  have  moved  that  day 
for  twenty  thousand  masters — no,  not  for  the  Empror 
of  Russia  or  the  Pop  of  Room. 

Well,  to  cut  this  sad  subjick  short,  many  and  many 
a  voyitch  have  I  sins  had  upon  what  Shakespur  calls 
"  the  wasty  dip,"  but  never  such  a  retched  one  as  that 
from  Dover  to  Balong,  in  the  year  Anna  Domino  1818. 
Steamers  were  scarce  in  those  days ;  and  our  journey 
was  made  in  a  smack.  At  last,  when  I  was  in  such  a 
stage  of  despare  and  exostion  as  reely  to  phansy  my- 
self at  Death's  doar,  we  got  to  the  end  of  our  journy. 
Late  in  the  evening  we  hailed  the  Gaelic  shoars,  and 
hankered  in  the  arbour  of  Balong  sir  Mare. 

It  was  the  entrans  of  Parrowdice  to  me  and  master ; 
and  as  we  entered  the  calm  water,  and  saw  the  com- 
frable  lights  gleaming  in  the  houses,  and  felt  the  roal 
of  the  vessel  degreasing,  never  was  two  mortials  glad- 
der, 1  warrant,  than  we  were.  At  length  our  capting 
drew  up  at  the  key,  and  our  journey  was  down.  But 
such  a  bustle  and  clatter,  such  jabbering,  snch  shrieking 
and  swaring,  such  wollies  of  oafs  and  axicrations  as  sa- 
luted us  on  landing,  I  never  knew  !     We  were  boarded, 


78  THE    YEI.UJWI'H/SII     PAPERS. 

in  the  fust  place,  by  customhouse  officers  in  cock-hats, 
who  seased  our  luggitch,  and  called  for  our  passpots: 
then  a  crowd  of  inn-waiters  came,  tumbling  and  scream- 
ing, on  deck — Dis  way,  sare,"  cries  one ;  Hotel  Meu- 
rioe,"  says  another  ;  "  Hotel  de  Bang,"  screeches  another 
chap — the  tower  of  Bayble  was  nothink  to  it.  The 
fnst  thing  that  struck  me  on  landing  was  a  big  fellow  with 
ear-rings,  who  very  nigh  knock  me  down,  in  wrenching 
master's  carpet-bag  out  of  my  hand,  as  I  was  carrying 
it  to  the  hotell.  But  we  got  to  it  safe  at  last ;  and,  for 
the  fust  time  in  my  life,  I  slep  in  a  foring  country. 

I  shan't  describe  this  town  of  Balon£,  which,  as  it 
has  been  visited  by  not  less  (on  an  avaridge)  than  two 
milliuns  of  English  since  I  fust  saw  it  twenty  years  ago, 
is  tolrabbly  well  known  already.  It's  a  dingy,  melum- 
colly  place,  to  my  mind  :  the  only  thing  moving  in  the 
streets  is  the  gutter  which  runs  down  'em.  As  for 
wooden  shoes,  I  saw  few  of  'em  ;  and  for  frogs,  upon 
my  honour,  I  never  see  a  single  Frenchman  swallow 
one,  which  I  had  been  led  to  beleave  was  their  re<dar, 
though  beastly,  custom.  One  thing  which  amazed  me 
was  the  singlar  name  which  they  give  to  this  town  of 
Balong.  tt's  divided,  as  every  boddy  knows,  into  an 
u]>\)(-y  town  (sityouate  on  a  mounting,  and  surrounded 
by  a  wall,  or  bullyvar),  and  a  lower  town,  which  is  on 
the  level  of  the  sea.  Well,  will  it  be  believed  that  they 
call  the  upper  town  the  Hot  Veal,  and  the  other  the 
Base  Veal,  which  is,  on  the  contry,  genrally  good  in 
Prance,  though  thebeaf  it  must  be  confest,  is  exscrabble. 

It  was  in  the  Base  Veal  that  Deuceace  took  his 
lodgian,  at  the  Eotel  deBang,  in  a  very  crooked  street 
called   the    Rue   del  Ascew ;    and  if  he'd   been   the 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  79 


Archbishop  of  Devonshire,  or  the  Duke  of  Canterbury, 
he  could  not  have  given  himself  greater  hairs,  I  can  tell 
you.  Nothink  was  too  fine  for  us  now ;  we  had  a 
sweet  of  rooms  on  the  first  floor,  which  belonged  to  the 
prime  minister  of  France  (at  least  the  landlord  said  they 
were  the  premier's) ;  and  the  Hon.  Algernon  Percy 
Deuceace,  who  had  not  paid  his  landriss,  and  came  to 
Dover  in  a  coach,  seamed  now  to  think  that  goold  was 
too  vulgar  for  him,  and  a  carriclge  and  six  would  break 
down  with  a  man  of  his  Aveight.  Shampang  flew 
about  like  ginger-pop,  besides  bordo,  clarit,  burgundy, 
burgong,  and  other  wines,  and  all  the  delixes  of  the 
Balong  kitchins.  "We  stopped  a  fortnit  at  this  dull 
place,  ani  did  nothing  from  morning  to  night  excep 
walk  on  the  beach,  and  watch  the  ships  going  in  and  out 
of  arber ;  with  one  of  them  long,  sliding  opra-glasses, 
which  they  call,  I  don't  know  why,  tallow-scoops.  Our 
amusements  for  the  fortnit  we  stopt  here  were  boath 
numerous  and  daliteful ;  nothink,  in  fact,  could  be  more 
pickcmg,  as  they  say.  In  the  morning  before  breakfast, 
we  boath  walked  on  the  Peer  ;  master  in  a  blue  mareen 
jackit,  and  me  in  a  slap-up  new  livry;  both  provided 
with  long  sliding  opra-glasses,  called  as  I  said  (I  don't 
know  Y,  but  I  spose  it's  a  scientafick  term)  tallow-scoops. 
With  these  we  igsamined,  very  attentively,  the  otion, 
the  sea-weed,  the  pebbles,  the  dead  cats,  the  fishwimmin, 
and  the  waives  (like  little  children  playing  at  leap-frog), 
which  came  tumbling  over  1  and  other  on  to  the  shoar. 
It  seemed  to  me  as  if  they  were  scrambling  to  get  there, 
as  well  they  might,  being  sick  of  the  sea,  and  anxious  for 
the  blessid,  peaceable  terry  firmy. 

After  brexfast,  down  we  went  again  (that  is,  master 


80  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

on  his  beat,  and  me  on  mine, — for  my  place  in  this  for- 
ing  town  was  a  complete  shinycure),  and  puttin  our 
tally-scoops  again  in  our  eyes,  we  egsamined  a  little 
more  the  otion,  pebbils,  dead  cats,  and  so  on ;  and  this 
lasted  till  dinner,  and  dinner  till  bed-time,  and  bed-time 
lasted  till  nex  day,  when  came  brexfast,  and  dinner,  and 
tally-scooping,  as  befoar.  This  is  the  way  with  all  peo- 
ple of  this  town,  of  which,  as  I've  heard  say,  there  is  ten 
thousand  happy  English,  who  lead  this  plesnt  life  from 
year's  end  to  year's  end. 

Besides  this,  there's  billiards  and  gambling  for  the 
gentlemen,  a  little  dancing  for  the  gals,  and  scandle  for 
the  dowygers.  In  none  of  these  amusements  did  we 
partake.  We  were  a  little  too  good  to  play  crown  pints 
at  cards,  and  never  get  paid  when  we  won  ;  or  to  go 
dangling  after  the  portionless  gals,  or  amuse  ourselves 
with  slops  and  penny-wist  along  with  the  old  ladies. 
No,  no  ;  my  master  was  a  man  of  fortun  now,  and  be- 
hayved  himself  as  sich.  If  ever  he  condysended  to  go 
into  the  public  room  of  the  Hotel  de  Bang — the  French 
(doubtless  for  reasons  best  known  to  themselves)  call 
this  a  sallymanjy — he  swoar  more  and  lowder  than  any 
one  there  ;  he  abyoused  the  waiters,  the  wittles,  the 
wines.  With  his  glas  in  his  i,  he  staired  at  every  body. 
He  took  always  the  place  before  the  fire.  He  talked 
about  "  My  carridge,"  "  My  currier,"  "  My  servant ;" 
and  he  did  wright.  I've  always  found  through  life, 
that  if  you  wish  to  be  respected  by  English  people,  you 
must  be  insalent  to  them,  especially  if  you're  a  sprig  of 
nobillaty.  We  like  being  insulted  by  noablemen, — it 
shows  they're  familiar  with  us.  Law  bless  us !  I've 
known  many  and  many  a  genlmn  about  town  who'd 


MK.    DEUCEAl   K.  81 


rather  be  kicked  by  a  lord  than  not  be  noticed  by  him  ; 
they've  even  had  an  aw  of  me,  because  I  was  a  lord's 
footman.  "While  my  master  was  hectoring  in  the  parlor, 
at  Balong,  pretious  airs  I  gave  myself  in  the  kitchiug, 
I  can  tell  you  ;  and  the  consequints  was,  that  we  were 
better  served,  and  moar  liked,  than  many  pipple  with 
twice  our  men-it. 

Deuceace  had  some  particklar  plans,  no  doubt, 
which  kep  him  so  long  at  Balong;  and  it  clearly  Mas 
his  wish  to  act  the  man  of  fortune  there  for  a  little  time 
before  he  tried  the  character  of  Paris.  He  purchased  a 
carridge,  he  hired  a  currier,  he  rigged  me  in  a  fine  new 
livry  blazin  with  lace,  and  he  past  through  the  Balong 
bank  a  thousand  pounds  of  the  money  he  had  won  from 
Daw  kins,  to  his  credit  at  a  Paris  house ;  showing  the 
Balong  bankers  at  the  same  time,  that  he'd  plenty  moar 
in  his  potfolie.  This  was  killin  two  birds  with  one  stone  ; 
the  bankers'  clerks  spread  the  nuse  over  the  town,  and 
in  a  day  after  master  had  paid  the  money  every  old 
dowyger  in  Balong  had  looked  out  the  Crab's  family 
podigree  in  the  Peeridge,  and  was  quite  intimate  with 
the  Deuceace  name  and  estates.  If  Sattn  himself  were 
a  Lord,  I  do  beleave  there's  many  vurtuous  English 
mothers  would  be  glad  to  have  him  for  a  son-in-law. 

Now,  though  my  master  had  thought  fitt  to  leave 
town  without  excommunicating  with  his  father  on  the 
subject  of  his  intended  continental  tripe,  as  soon  as  he 
was  settled  at  Balong  he  roat  my  lord  Crabbs  a  letter, 
of  which  I  happen  to  have  a  copy.     It  run  thus  : — 

Boulogne,  January  25. 
"  My  dear  Father, — I  have  long,  in  the  course  of  my 
3* 


82  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


legal  studies,  found  the  necessity  of  a  knowledge  of 
French,  in  which  language  all  the  early  history  of  our 
profession  is  written,  and  have  determined  to  take  a  lit- 
tle relaxation  from  chamber  reading,  which  has  seriously 
injured  my  health.  If  my  modest  finances  can  bear  a 
two  months'  journey,  and  a  residence  at  Paris,  I  propose 
to  remain  there  that  period. 

"  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  send  me  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  Lord  Bobtail,  our  ambassador  ?  My 
name,  and  your  old  friendship  with  him,  I  know  would 
secure  me  a  reception  at  his  house  ;  but  a  pressing  letter 
from  yourself  would  at  once  be  more  courteous,  and 
more  effectual. 

"  May  I  also  ask  you  for  my  last  quarter's  salary  ? 
I  am  not  an  expensive  man,  my  dear  father,  as  you 
know  ;  but  we  are  no  chameleons,  and  fifty  pounds 
(with  my  little  earnings  in  my  profession)  would  vastly 
add  to  the  agrtmens  of  my  continental  excursion. 

"  Present  my  love  to  all  my  brothers  and  sisters. 
Ah  !  how  I  wish  the  hard  portion  of  a  younger  son  had 
not  been  mine,  and  that  I  could  live  without  the  dire 
necessity  for  labour,  happy  among  the  rural  scenes  of 
my  childhood,  and  in  the  society  of  my  dear  sisters  and 
you !  Heaven  bless  you,  dearest  father,  and  all  those 
beloved  ones  now  dwelling  under  the  dear  old  roof  at 
Sizes. 

"  Ever  your  affectionate  son. 

"Algernon. 

"  The  Riqht  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Crabs,  &c. 
"  Sizes  Court,  Bucks." 

To  this  affeckshnat  letter  his  lordship  replied,  by  re- 
turn of  poast.  as  folios  : 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  83 


"  My  dear  Algernon, — Your  letter  came  safe  to  hand, 
and  I  enclose  you  the  letter  for  Lord  Bobtail  as  you  de- 
sire. He  is  a  kind  man,  and  has  one  of  the  best  cooks 
in  Europe. 

"  We  were  all  charmed  with  your  warm  remem- 
brances of  us,  not  having  seen  you  for  seven  years.  We 
cannot  but  be  pleased  at  the  family  affection  which,  in 
spite  of  time  and  absence,  still  clings  so  fondly  to  home. 
It  is  a  sad,  selfish  world,  and  very  few  who  have  entered 
it  can  afford  to  keep  those  fresh  feelings  which  you  have, 
my  dear  son. 

"  May  you  long  retain  them,  is  a  fond  father's  ear- 
nest prayer.  Be  sure,  dear  Algernon,  that  they  will  be 
through  life  your  greatest  comfort,  as  well  as  your  best 
worldly  ally  ;  consoling  you  in  misfortune,  cheering  you 
in  depression,  aiding  and  inspiring  you  to  exertion  and 
success. 

"  I  am  sorry,  truly  sorry,  that  my  account  at  Coutts's 
is  so  low,  just  now,  as  to  render  a  payment  of  your  al- 
lowance for  the  present  impossible.  I  see  by  my  book 
that  I  owe  you  now  nine  quarters,  or  4501.  Depend  on 
it,  my  dear  boy,  that  they  shall  be  faithfully  paid  over  to 
you  on  the  first  opportunity. 

"  By  the  way,  I  have  enclosed  some  extracts  from 
the  newspapers,  which  may  interest  you  :  and  have  re- 
seived  a  very  strange  letter  from  a  Mr.  Blewitt,  about  a 
play  transaction,  which,  I  suppose,  is  the  case  alluded  to 
in  these  prints.  He  says  you  won  4700Z.  from  one 
Dawkins  ;  that  the  lad  paid  it ;  that  he,  Blewitt,  was  to 
go  what  he  calls  '  snacks'  in  the  winning ;  but  that 
you  refused  to  share  the  booty.  How  can  you,  my  dear 
boy,  quarrel  with  these  vulgar  people,  or  lay  yourself  in 


84  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

any  way  open  to  their  attacks  ?  I  havt  played  myself 
a  good  deal,  and  there  is  no  man  living  who  can  accuse 
me  of  a  doubtful  act.  You  should  either  have  shot  this 
Blewitt  or  paid  him.  Now,  as  the  matter  stands,  it  is 
too  late  to  do  the  former ;  and,  perhaps,  it  would  be 
Quixotic  to  perform  the  latter.  My  dearest  boy !  re- 
collect through  life  that  you  never  can  afford  to  be  dis- 
honest tuith  a  rogue.  Two  thousand  four  hundred 
pounds  was  a  great  coup  to  be  sure. 

"As  you  are  now  in  such  high  feather,  can  you, 
dearest  Algernoon !  lend  me  five  hundred  pounds  ? 
Upon  my  soul  and  honour,  I  will  repay  you.  Your 
brothers  and  sisters  send  you  their  love.  I  need  not 
add,  that  you  have  always  the  blessings  of  your  affec- 
tionate father. 

"  Crabs. 

"  P.  S. — Make  it  550,  and  I  will  give  you  my  note 

of  hand  for  a  thousand." 

***** 

I  neadnt  say,  that  this  did  not  quite  enter  into 
Deuceace's  eyedears.  Lend  his  father  500  pound,  in- 
deed !  He'd  as  soon  have  lent  him  a  box  on  the  year ! 
In  the  fust  place,  he  hadn  seen  old  Crabs  for  seven 
years,  as  that  nobleman  remarked  in  his  epistol ;  in  the 
secknd,  he  hated  him,  and  they  hated  each  other ;  and 
nex,  if  master  had  loved  his  father  ever  so  much,  he 
loved  somebody  else  better — his  father's  son,  namely  : 
and,  sooner  than  deprive  that  exlent  young  man  of  a 
penny,  he'd  have  sean  all  the  fathers  in  the  world 
hangin  at  Newgat,  and  all  the  "  beloved  ones,"  as  he 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  81 


called  his  sisters,  the  Lady  Deuceacisses,  so  many  con- 
vix  at  Bottomy  Bay. 

The  newspaper  parrografs  showed  that,  hbwevei 
secret  we  wished  to  keep  the  play  transaction,  the  public 
know  it  now  full  well.  Blewitt,  as  I  found  after,  was 
the  author  of  the  libles  which  appeared,  right  and  left : 

"  Gambling  in  High  Life  :  the  Honorable  Mr.  De — c— co 
again! — This  celebrated  -whist-player  has  turned  his  accom- 
plishments to  some  profit.  On  Friday,  the  16th  January,  he 
won  five  thousand  pounds  from  a  very  young  gentleman, 
Th — m — s  Sm — th  D — wk — ns,  Esq.,  and  lost  two  thousand 
five  hundred  to  R.  Bl— w— tt,  Esq.,  of  the  T— mple.  Mr.  D. 
very  honourably  paid  the  sum  lost  by  him  to  the  honourable 
wliist-player,  but  we  have  not  heard  that,  before  his  sudden 
trip  to  Paris,  Mr.  D — uc — ce  paid  his  losings  to  Mr. 
Bl— w— tt" 


Nex  came  a  "  Notice  to  Corryspondents 


.11 


"  Fair  Play  asks  us,  if  we  know  of  the  gambling  doings  of 
the  notorious  Deuceace  ?     "We  answer,  We  do  ;  and,  in  our 
very  next  Number,  propose  to  make  some  of  them  public." 
*  *  *  *  * 

They  didn't  appear,  however ;  but,  on  the  contry, 
the  very  same  newspepper,  which  had  been  before  so 
abusifFof  Deuceace,  was  now  loud  in  his  praise.     It  said  : 

"A  paragraph  was  inadvertently  admitted  into  our  paper 
of  last  week,  most  unjustly  assailing  the  character  of  a  gentle- 
man of  high  birth  and  talents,  the  son  of  the  exemplary  E — rl 
of  Cr — bs.  "We  repeL  with  scorn  and  indignation,  the  das- 
tardly falsehoods  of  the  malignant  slanderer  who  villified  Mr. 
De — ce — ce,  and  beg  to  offer  that  gentleman  the  only  repara- 
tion in  our  power  for  having  thus  tampered  with  his  unsullied 


86  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

name.  We  disbelieve  the  ruffian  and  his  story,  tnd  most  sin- 
cerely regret  that  such  a  tale,  or  such  a  writer,  should  ever 
have  been  brought  forward  to  the  readers  of  this  paper." 

This  was  satisfactory,  and  no  mistake ;  and  much 
pleased  we  were  at  the  denial  of  this  conshentious  editor. 
So  much  pleased,  that  master  sent  him  a  ten-pound 
noat,  and  his  complymints.  He'd  sent  another  to  the 
same  address,  before  this  parrowgraff  was  printed ;  why, 
I  can't  think  :  for  I  woodnt  suppose  any  thing  musnary 
in  a  littery  man.  . 

Well,  after  this  bisniss  was  concluded,  the  currier 
hired,  the  carridge  smartened  a  little,  and  me  set  up  in 
my  new  livries,  we  bade  ajew  to  Bulong  in  the  grandest 
state  posbill.  What  a  figger  we  cut !  and,  my  i,  what 
a  figger  the  postillion  cut !  A  cock-hat,  a  jackit  made 
out  of  a  cow's  skin  (it  was  in  cold  weather),  a  pig-tale 
about  3  fit  in  lenth,  and  a  pare  of  boots !  Oh,  sich  a 
pare !  A  bishop  might  almost  have  preached  out  of 
one,  or  a  modrat-sized  famly  slep  in  it.  Me  and  Mr. 
Schwigschnaps,  the  currier,  sate  behind,  in  the  rumbill ; 
master  aloan  in  the  inside,  as  grand  as  a  Turk,  and 
rapt  up  in  his  fine  fir-cloak.  Off  we  sett,  bowing 
gracefly  to  the  crowd  ;  the  harniss-bells  jinglin,  the  great 
white  hosses  snortin,  kickin,  and  squeelin,  and  the 
postillium  cracking  his  wip,  as  loud  as  if  he'd  been 
drivin  her  majesty  the  quean. 

***** 

Well,  I  shant  describe  our  voyitch.  We  passed 
sefral  sitties,  willitches,  and  metrappolishes ;  sleeping 
the  fust  night  at  Amiens,  witch,  as  every  boddy  knows, 
is  famous  ever  since  the  year  1802  for  what's  r-alled  the 


MR.    DEUC.'CACE.  87 


Pease  of  Amiens.  We  had  some,  very  good,  done  with 
sugar  and  brown  sos,  in  the  Amiens  way.  But,  after 
all  the  boasting  about  them,  I  think  I  like  our  marrow- 
phats  better. 

Speaking  of  wedgytables,  another  singler  axdent 
happened  here  concerning  them.  Master,  who  was 
brexfasting  before  going  away,  told  me  to  go  and  get 
him  his  fur  travlinff-shoes.  I  went  and  toald  the  waiter 
of  the  inn,  who  stared,  grinned  (as  these  chaps  always 
do),  said  "  Bong"  (which  means,  very  well),  and 
presently  came  back. 

I'm  blest,  if  he  didnH  bring  master  a  plate  ofca.bbitch  ! 
Would  you  bleave  it,  that  now,  in  the  nineteenth  sen- 
try, when  they  say  there's  schoolmasters  abroad,  these 
stewpid  French  jackasses  are  so  extonishingly  ignorant 
as  to  call  a  cabbidge  a  shoo  !  Never,  never  let  it  be 
said,  after  this,  that  these  benighted,  souperstitious, 
misrabble  savidges,  are  equill,  in  any  respex,  to  the  great 
Brittish  people !  The  moor  I  travvle,  the  moor  I  see 
the  world,  and  other  natiums,  I  am  proud  of  my  own, 
and  despise  and  deplore  the  retchid  ignorance  of  the 

rest  of  Yourup. 

***** 

My  remark  on  Parris  you  shall  have  by  an  early 
opportunity.  Me  and  Deuceace  played  some  curious 
pranx  there,  I  can  tell  you. 


88  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS. 
CHAPTER  I. 

THE   TWO    BUN~DLES   OF   HAY. 

Leftexant-general  Sir  George  Griffin,  K.  C.  B., 
was  about  seventy-five  years  old  when  he  left  this  life, 
and  the  East  Ingine  army,  of  which  he  was  a  dis- 
tinguish ornyment.  Sir  George's  first  appearance  in 
Injar  was  in  the  character  of  a  cabbingboy  to  a  vessel ; 
from  which  he  rose  to  be  clerk  to  the  owners  at  Cal- 
cutta, from  which  he  became  all  of  a  sudden  a  captin» 
in  the  Company's  service ;  and  so  rose  and  rose,  until 
he  rose  to  be  a  leftenant-general,  when  he  stopped 
rising  all  together — hopping  the  twigg  of  this  life,  as 
drummers,  generals,  dustmen,  and  emprors,  must  do. 

Sir  George  did  not  leave  any  mal  hair  to  per- 
patuate  the  name  of  Griffin.  A  widow  of  about  twenty- 
seven,  and  a  daughter  avaritching  twenty-three,  was 
left  behind  to  deploar  his  loss,  and  share  his  proppaty. 
On  old  Sir  George's  deth,  his  intresting  widdo  and  orfan, 
who  had  both  been  with  him  in  Injer,  returned  home 
— tried  London  for  a  few  months,  did  not  like  it,  and 
resolved  on  a  trip  to  Paris,  where  very  small  London 
people  become  very  great  ones,  if  they've  money,  as 
these  Griffinses  had.     The  intelligent  reader  kneed  not 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  89 


be  told  that  Miss  Griffin  was  not  the  daughter  of  Lady 
Griffin;  for  though  man-itches  are  made  tolrabbly  early 
in  Injer,  people  are  not  quite  so  precoashoos  as  all  that : 
the  fact  is,  Lady  G.  was  Sir  George's  second  wife.  I 
need  scarcely  add,  that  Miss  Matilda  Griffin  was  the 
offspring  of  his  fust  marritch. 

Miss  Leonora  Kicksey,  a  ansum,  lively  Islington 
gal,  taken  out  to  Calcutta,  and,  amongst  his  other 
goods,  very  comfortably  disposed  of  by  her  uncle, 
Capting  Kicksey,  was  one-and-twenty  when  she  mar- 
ried Sir  George  at  seventy-one ;  and  the  13  Miss  Kkk- 
seys,  nine  of  whom  kep  a  school  at  Islington  (the  other 
4  being  married  variously  in  the  city),  were  not  a  little 
envius  of  my  lady's  luck,  and  not  a  little  proud  of  their 
relationship  to  her.  One  of  'em,  Miss  Jemima  Kicksey, 
the  oldest,  and  by  no  means  the  least  ugly  of  the  sett, 
was  staying  with  her  ladyship,  and  gev  me  all  the  par- 
tecklars.  Of  the  rest  of  the  famly,  being  of  a  lo  sort,  I 
in  course  no  nothink ;  my  acquaintance,  thank  my 
stars,  don't  lie  among  them,  or  the  likes  of  them. 

Well,  this  Miss  Jemima  lived  with  her  younger  and 
more  fortnat  sister,  in  the  qualaty  of  companion,  or 
toddy.  Poar  thing !  I'd  a  soon  be  a  gaily  slave,  as 
lead  the  life  she  did  !  Every  body  in  the  house  despised 
her;  her  ladyship  insulted  her;  the  very  hitching  gals 
scorned  and  flouted  her.  She  roat  the  notes,  she  kep 
the  bills,  she  made  the  tea,  she  whipped  the  chocklate, 
she  cleaned  the  Canary  birds,  and  gev  out  the  linning 
fur  the  wash.  She  was  my  lady's  walking  pocket,  or 
ryttycule ;  and  fetched  and  carried  her  handkercher,  or 
her  smell-bottle,  like  a  well-bred  spaniel.  All  night,  at 
her  ladyship's  swarries,  she  thumped  kidrills  (nobody 


90  THE    TELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

ever  thought  of  asking  her  to  dance !) ;  when  Miss 
G rifting  sung,  she  played  the  piano,  and  was  scolded 
becau.se  the  singer  was  out  of  tune ;  abommanating 
dogs,  she  never  drove  out  without  her  ladyship's  pud- 
dle in  her  lap  ;  and,  reglarly  unwell  in  a  carridge,  she 
never  got  any  thing  but  the  back  seat.  Poar  Jemima ! 
I  can  see  her  now  in  my  lady's  secknd-best  old  clothes 
(the  ladies-maids  always  got  the  prime  leavings)  :  a 
liloc  sattn  gown,  crumpled,  blotched,  and  greasy ;  a 
pair  of  white  sattn  shoes,  of  the  colour  of  Inger  rubber; 
a  faded  yellow  velvet  hat,  with  a  wreath  of  hartifishl 
dowers  run  to  sead,  and  a  bird  of  Parrowdice  perched 
on  the  top  of  it,  melumcolly  and  moulting,  with  only  a 
couple  of  feathers  left  in  his  unfortunate  tail. 

Besides  this  ornyment  to  their  saloon,  Lady  and 
Mi>s  Griffin  kep  a  number  of  other  servants  in  the 
hitching ;  2  ladies-maids  ;  2  footmin,  six  feet  high  each, 
crimson  coats,  goold  knots,  and  white  cassymear  panty- 
loons ;  a  coachmin  to  match  ;  a  page  :  and  a  Shassure, 
a  kind  of  servant  only  known  among  forriners,  and  who 
looks  more  like  a  major-general  than  any  other  mortial, 
wearing  a  cock-hat,  a  unicorn  covered  with  silver  lace, 
mustashos,  eplets,  and  a  sword  by  his  side.  All  these 
to  wait  upon  two  ladies ;  not  counting  a  host  of  the 
fair  six,  such  as  cooks,  scullion,  housekeepers,  and  so 
forth. 

My  Lady  Griffin's  lodging  was  at  forty  pound  a 
week,  in  a  grand  sweet  of  rooms  in  the  Plas  Vandome 
at  Paris.  And,  having  thus  described  their  house,  and 
their  servants'  hall,  I  may  give  a  few  words  of  descrip- 
tion concerning  the  ladies  themselves. 

In  the  fust  place,  and  in   coarse,  they  hated  each 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  91 


other.  My  lady  was  twenty-seven — a  widdo  of  two 
year — fat,  fair,  and  rosy.  A  slow,  quiet,  cold-looking 
woman,  as  those  fair-haired  gals  generally  are,  it  seem- 
ed difficult  to  rouse  her  either  into  likes  or  dislikes ;  to 
the  former,  at  least.  She  never  loved  any  body  but 
one,  and  that  was  herself.  She  hated,  in  her  calm, 
quiet  way,  almost  every  one  else  who  came  near  her — 
every  one,  from  her  neighbour  the  duke,  who  had 
slighted  her  at  dinner,  down  to  John  the  footman,  who 
had  torn  a  hole  in  her  train.  I  think  this  woman's 
heart  was  like  one  of  them  lithograffic  stones,  you 
can't  rub  out  any  thing  when  once  it's  drawn  or  wrote 
on  it ;  nor  could  you  out  of  her  ladyship's  stone — 
heart,  I  mean — in  the  shape  of  an  affront,  a  slight, 
or  real  or  phansied  injury.  She  boar  an  exlent,  irre- 
protchable  character,  against  which  the  tongue  of  scan- 
die  never  wagged.  She  wras  allowed  to  be  the  best 
wife  posbill — and  so  she  was ;  but  she  killed  her  old 
husband  in  two  years,  as  dead  as  ever  Mr.  Thurtell 
killed  Mr.  William  Weare.  She  never  got  into  a  pas- 
sion, not  she — she  never  said  a  rude  word ;  but  she'd 
a  genius — a  genius  which  many  women  have — of 
making  a  lull  of  a  house,  and  tort'ring  the  poor  crea- 
tures of  her  family,  until  they  were  wellnigh  drove 
mad. 

Miss  Matilda  Griffin  was  a  good  deal  uglier,  and 
about  as  amiable  as  her  mother-in-law.  She  was 
crooked,  and  squinted;  my  lady,  to  do  her  justice,  was 
straight,  and  looked  the  same  way  with  her  i's.  She 
v.  as  'lark,  and  my  lady  was  fair — sentimental,  as  her 
ladyship  was  cold.  My  lady  was  never  in  a  passion — 
Miss   Matilda   always;    and    awfllle    were   the   scenes 


92  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


which  used  to  pass  between  these  2  women,  and  the 
wickid,  wickid  quarls  which  took  place.  Why  did 
they  live  together?  There  was  the  mistry.  Not  re- 
lated, and  hating  each  other  like  pison,  it  would  surely 
have  been  easier  to  remain  seprat,  and  so  have  detest- 
ed each  other  at  a  distans. 

As  for  the  fortune  which  old  Sir  George  had  left, 
that,  it  was  clear,  was  very  considrabble — 300  thow- 
snd  lb.  at  the  least,  as  I  have  heard  say.  But  nobody 
knew  how  it  was  disposed  of.  Some  said  that  her 
ladyship  was  sole  mistriss  of  it,  others  that  it  was  divid- 
ed, others  that  she  had  only  a  life  inkum,  and  that  the 
money  was  all  to  go  (as  was  natral)  to  Miss  Matilda. 
These  are  subjix  which  are  not,  praps,  very  interesting 
to  the  British  public ;  but  were  mighty  important  to 
my  master,  the  Honrable  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace, 
esquire,  barrister-at-law,  etsettler,  etsettler. 

For  I've  forgot  to  inform  you  that  my  master  was 
very  intimat  in  this  house;  and  that  we  were  now 
comfortably  settled  at  the  Hotel  Mirabew  (pronounced 
Marobo  in  French),  in  the  Rew  delly  Pay,  at  Paris. 
We  had  our  cab,  and  two  riding  horses ;  our  banker's 
book,  and  a  thousand  pound  for  a  balants  at  Lafitt's  ; 
our  club  at  the  corner  of  the  Rew  Gramong ;  our  share 
of  a  box  at  the  oppras ;  our  apartments,  spacious  and 
elygant ;  our  swarries  at  court ;  our  dinners  at  his  ex- 
lency  Lord  Bobtail's  and  elsewhere.  Thanks  to  poar 
Dawkms's  five  thousand  pound,  we  were  as  complete 
gentlemen  as  any  in  Paris. 

Now  my  master,  like  a  wise  man  as  he  was,  seaing 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  smart  sum  of  money,  and  in 
a  country  where  lii>  debts  could  not  bother  him,  deter- 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  93 


mined  to  give  up  for  the  presnt  every  think  like  gam- 
bling— at  least,  high  play  ;  as  for  losing  or  winning  a 
ralow  of  Napoleums  at  whist  or  ecarty,  it  did  not  mat- 
ter :  it  looks  like  money  to  do  such  things,  and  gives  a 
kind  of  respectabillaty.  "But  as  for  play,  he  wouldn't 
— 0  no!  not  for  worlds! — do  such  a  thing."  He  had 
played,  like  other  young  men  of  fashn  and  won  and 
lost  [old  fox  !  he  didn't  say  he  had  paid]  ;  but  he  had 
given  up  the  amusement,  and  was  now  determined, 
he  said,  to  live  on  his  inkum."  The  fact  is,  my  master 
was  doing  his  very  best  to  act  the  respectable  man : 
and  a  very  good  game  it  is,  too ;  but  it  requires  a  pre- 
cious great  roag  to  play  it. 

He   made    his   appearans    reglar   at    church — me 
carrying  a  handsome  large  black  marocky  Prayer-book 
and  Bible,  with  the  psalms  and  lessons   marked  out 
with  red  ribbings;  and  you'd  have  thought,  as  I  graiv- 
ly  laid  the  volloms  down  before  him,  and  as  he  berried 
his  head  in  his  nicely  brushed  hat,  before  survice  began, 
that  such  a  pious,  proper,  morl,  young  nobleman   was 
not  to  be  found  in  the  whole  of  the  peeridge.     It  was 
a  comfort  to  look  at  him.     Efry  old  tabby  and  dowy- 
ger  at  my  Lord  Bobtail's  turned  up  the  wights  of  their 
i's  when  they  spoke  of  him,  and  vowed  they  had  never 
seen  such  a  dear,  daliteful,  exlent  young  man.     What 
a  good  son  he  must  be,  they  said ;  and,  oh,  what  a 
good  son-in-law  !     He  had  the  pick  of  all  the  Eng- 
lish gals  at  Paris  before  we  had  been  there  3  months. 
But,   unfortnatly,  most  of  them  were  poar ;  and  love 
and  a  cottidge  was  not  quite  in  master's  way  of  thinking. 
Well,  about  this  time  my  Lady  Griffin  and  Miss  G. 
maid  their  appearand  at  Parris,  and  master,  who  was 


94  THE     YELLOWPLl'SH    PAPERS. 

up  to  snough.  wry  soon  changed  his  noat.  He  sate 
near  them  at  chappie,  and  sung  hims  with  ray  ladv : 
he  danced  with  'em  at  the  embassy  balls  ;  he  road  with 
them  in  the  Boy  de  Balong  and  the  Shandeleasies 
(which  is  the  French  High  Park) ;  he  roat  potry  in 
Miss  Griffin's  halbim,  and  sang  jewets  along  with  her  and 
Lady  Griffin  ;  he  brought  sweat-meats  for  th<g  puddle- 
dog  ;  he  gave  money  to  the  footmin,  kissis  and  gloves 
to  the  sniggering  ladies-maids ;  he  was  siwle  even  to 
poar  Miss  Kicksey ;  there  wasn't  a  single  soal  at  the 
Griffinses  that  didn't  adoar  this  good  young  man. 

The  ladies,  if  they  hated  befoar,  you  may  be  sure 
detested  each  other  now  wuss  than  ever.  There  had 
been  always  a  jallowsy  between  them ;  miss  jellows  i  >f 
her  mother-in-law's  bewty ;  madam  of  miss's  espree : 
miss  taunting  my  lady  about  the  school  at  Islington, 
and  my  lady  sn earing  at  miss  for  her  squint  and  her 
crookid  back.  And  now  came  a  stronger  caws.  Thev 
both  fell  in  love  with  Mr.  Deuceace — my  lady,  that  is 
to  say,  as  much  as  she  could,  with  her  cold  selfish  tem- 
per. She  liked  Deuceace,  who  amused  her  and  made 
her  laff.  She  liked  his  manners,  his  riding,  and  his 
good  loox ;  and,  being  a  pervinew  herself,  had  a  dubble 
respect  for  real  aristocratick  flesh  and  blood.  Miss's 
love,  on  the  contry,  was  all  flams  and  fury.  S 
always  been  at  this  work  from  the  time  she  had  been 
at  school,  where  she  very  nigh  run  away  with  a  Frentch 
master;  next  with  a  footman  (which  I  may  say,  in 
confidence,  is  by  no  means  unnatral  or  unusyouall,  as  I 
could  shevj  if  I  liked) ;  and  so  had  been  going  on  sins 
fifteen.  She  reglarly  flung  herself  at  Deuceace's  head 
— such  sighing,  crying,  and  ogling,  I  never  see      Often 


MR.    DEUCEAC1..  95 


was  I  ready  to  bust  out  laffin,  as  I  brought  master 
skoars  of  rose-coloured  billydoos,  folded  up  like  cock- 
hats,  and  smellin  like  barber's  shops,  which  this  very 
tender  young  lady  used  to  address  to  him.  Now, 
though  master  was  a  scoundrill,  and  no  mistake,  he 
was  a  gentlemin,  and  a  man  of  good  breading ;  and 
miss  came  a  little  too  strong  (pardon  the  wulgarity  of 
the  xpression)  with  her  hardor  and  attachmint,  for  one 
of  his  taste.  Besides,  she  had  a  crookid  spine,  and  a 
squint ;  so  that  (supposing  their  fortns  tolrabbly  equal) 
Deuceace  reely  preferred  tne  mother-in-law. 

Now,  then,  it  was  his  bisniss  to  find  out  which  had 
the  most  money.  With  an  English  famly  this  would 
have  been  easy  :  a  look  at  a  will  at  Doctor  Commons'es 
would  settle  the  matter  at  once.  But  this  India  naybob's 
will  was  at  Calcutty,  or  some  outlandish  place ;  and 
there  was  no  getting  sight  of  a  coppy  of  it.  I  will  do 
Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace  the  justass  to  say,  that  he  was 
so  little  musnary  in  his  love  for  Lady  Griffin,  that  he 
would  have  married  her  gladly,  even  if  she  had  ten 
thousand  pounds  less  than  Miss  Matilda.  In  the  mean 
time,  his  plan  was  to  keep  'em  both  in  play,  until  he 
could  strike  the  best  fish  of  the  two — not  a  difficult 
matter  for  a  man  of  his  genus  ;  besides,  Miss  was 
hooked  for  certain. 

CHAPTER  II. 

"  HONOUR   THY   FATHER." 

I  said  that  my  master  was  adoared  by  every  person  in 
my  Lady  Griffin's  establishmint.     I   should  have  said 


96  THE    YELLOW  i'Lr.SH    PAPERS. 


by  every  person  excep  one, — a  young  French  gnlmn, 
that  is,  who,  before  our  appearants,  had  been  mighty 
particklar  with  my  lady,  ockupying  by  her  side  exackly 
the  same  pasition,  which  the  Honrabble  Mr.  Deuceace 
now  held.  It  was  bewtiffie  and  headifying  to  see  how 
coolly  that  young  nobleman  kicked  the  poar  Shevalliav 
de  L'Orge  out  of  his  shoes,  and  how  gracefully  he  him- 
self stept  into  'em.  Munseer  de  L'Orge  was  a  smart 
young  French  jentleman,  of  about  my  master's  age  and 
good  looks,  but  not  possest  of  \  my  master's  impidince. 
Not  that  that  quallaty  is  uncommon  in  France ;  but 
few,  very  few,  had  it  to  such  a  degree  as  my  exlent  em- 
ployer, Mr.  Deuceace.  Besides  De  L'Orge  was  reglarly 
and  reely  in  love  with  Lady  Griffin,  and  master  only 
pretending :  he  had,  of  coars,  an  advantitch,  which  the 
poar  Frentchman  never  could  git.  He  was  all  smiles 
and  gaty,  while  Delorge  was  ockward  and  melumcolly. 
My  master  had  said  twenty  pretty  things  to  Lady  Griffin, 
befor  the  shevalier  had  finished  smoothing  his  hat, 
staring  at  her,  and  sighing  fit  to  bust  his  weskit.  O 
luv.  luv  !  This  is'nt  the  way  to  win  a  woman,  or  my 
name's  not  Fitzroy  Yellow-plush  !  Myself,  when  I  begun 
my  carear  among  the  fair  six,  I  was  always  sighing  and 
moping,  like  this  poar  Frenchman.  What  was  the  cons- 
quints  \  The  foar  fust  women  I  adoared  lafft  at  me, 
and  left  me  for  somethink  more  lively.  With  the  rest 
I  have  edopted  a  diffrent  game,  and  with  tol rabble 
Buxess,  I  can  tell  you.  But  this  is  eggati.-m,  which  I 
aboar. 

Well,  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  that  Munseer 
Ferdinand  Hyppolite  Xavier  Stanislas,  Shevalier  de 
L'Orge,  was  reglar  cut  out  by  Munseer  Algernon  Percy 


MK.    DEUCEACE.  97 


Deuceace,  Exquire.  Poar  Ferdinand  did  not  leave  the 
house — he  had'nt  the  heart  to  do  that — nor  had  my 
lady  the  desire  to  dismiss  him.  He  was  usefle  in  a 
thousand  diffrent  ways,  gitting  oppra  boxes,  and  invita- 
tions to  Frentch  swarries,  bying  gloves,  and  0  de  Colong, 
writing  French  noats,  and  such  like.  Always  let  me 
recommend  an  English  famly,  going  to  Paris,  to  have 
at  least  one  young  man  of  the  sort  about  them.  Never 
mind  how  old  your  ladyship  is,  he  will  make  love  to 
you  ;  never  mind  what  errints  you  send  him  upon,  he'll 
trot  off  and  do  them.  Besides,  he's  always  quite  and 
well-dresst,  and  never  drinx  moar  than  a  pint  of  wine  at 
dinner,  which  (as  I  say)  is  a  pint  to  consider.  Such  a 
conveniants  of  a  man  was  Munseer  de  L'Orge — the 
greatest  use  and  comfort  to  my  lady  posbill ;  if  it  was 
but  to  laff  at  his  bad  prpnunciatium  of  English,  it  was 
somethink  amusink  :  the  fun  was  to  pit  him  against 
poar  Miss  Kicksey,  she  speakin  French,  and  he  our 
naytif  British  tong. 

My  master,  to  do  him  justace,  was  perfickly  sivvle 
to  this  poar  young  Frenchman  ;  and,  having  kicked 
him  out  of  the  place  which  he  occupied,  sertingly  treated 
his  fallen  anymy  with  every  respect  and  consideration. 
Poar  modist  down-hearted  little  Ferdinand  adoared  my 
lady  as  a  goddice  ;  and  so  he  was  very  polite,  likewise, 
to  my  master — never  ventring  once  to  be  jellows  of  him, 
or  to  question  my  Lady  Griffin's  right  to  change  her 
lover,  if  she  choase  to  do  so. 

Thus  then,  matters  stood  ;  master  had  two  strinx  to 
hi-  i>".  and  might  take  either  the  widdoor  the  orfn,  as  he 
preferred  :  com  bong  Iwce  somblay,  as  the  Frentch  sav. 
His  only  pint  was  to  discover  liow  the  money  was  dis- 


98  THE  YELLOW  PLUSH  PAPERS. 

posed  oft",  which  evidently  belonged  to  one  or  other,  or 

boath.     At  any  rate,  he  was  sure  of   one ;  as  sure  as 

any  mortiai  man  can  be  in  this  subliraary  spear,  where 

nothink  is  suttn  excep  unsertnty. 

*  *  *  *  * 

A  very  unixpected  insdint  here  took  place,  which 
in  a  good  deal  changed  my  master's  calkylations. 

One  night,  after  conducting  the  two  ladies  to  the 
oppra,  after  suppink  of  white  soop,  sammy-deperdrow, 
and  shampang  glassy  (which  means,  eyced),  at  their 
house  in  the  Plas  Vandom,  me  and  master  droav  hoam 
in  the  cab,  as  happy  as  possbill. 

"  Chawls,  you  d — d  scoundrel,"  says  he  to  me  (for 
he  was  in  an  exlent  burner),  "  when  I'm  marrid,  I'll 
dubbil  your  wagis." 

This  he  might  do,  to  be  sure,  without  injaring  him- 
self, seeing  that  he  had  as  yet  never  paid  me  any.  But, 
what  then  ?  Law  bless  us !  things  would  be  at  a  pretty 
pass  if  we  suvvants  only  lived  on  our  wagis  ;  our  puckwi- 
sits  is  the  thing,  and  no  mistake. 

I  ixprest  my  gratatude  as  best  I  could  ;  swoar  that 
it  wasnt  for  warns  I  served  him — that  I  would  as  leaf 
weight  upon  him  for  nothink ;  and  that  never,  never, 
so  long  as  I  livd,  would  I,  of  my  own  acord,  part  from 
such  an  exlent  master.  By  the  time  these  two  spitches 
had  been  made — my  spitch  and  his — we  arrived  at  the 
Hotel  Mixabeu;  which,  as  every  body  knows,  aintvery 
distant  from  the  Plas  Vandome.  Up  we  marched  to 
our  apartrnince,  me  carrying  the  light  and  the  eloax, 
master  huinmink  a  hair  out  of  tin-  oppra,  as  merry  as  a 
lark. 

I  opened  the  door  of  our  salong.     There  was  lights 


MR.    DKUCKACE.  99 


already  in  the  room  ;  an  empty  shampang  bottle  roal- 
ing  on  the  floar,  another  on  the  table  ;  near  which  the 
sofy  was  drawn,  and  on  it  lay  a  stout  old  genlmn, 
smoaking  seagars  as  if  he'd  bean  in  an  inn  tap-room. 

Deuceace  (who  abommanates  seagars,  as  I've  already 
shewn)  bust  into  a  furious  raige  against  the  genlmn, 
whom  he  could  hardly  see  for  the  smoak ;  and,  with  a 
number  of  oaves  quite  unnecessary  to  repeat,  asked  him 
what  bisniss  he'd  there. 

The  smoakin  chap  rose,  and,  laying  down  his  sea- 
gar,  began  a  ror  of  laffin,  and  said,  "What  Algy!  my 
boy!  don't  you  know  me?" 

The  reader  may,  praps,  recklect  a  very  affecting  let- 
ter which  was  published  in  the  last  chapter  of  these 
memoars ;  in  which  the  writer  requested  a  loan  of  five 
hundred  pound  from  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace,  and  which 
boar  the  respected  signatur  of  the  Earl  of  Crabs,  Mr. 
Deuceace's  own  father.  It  was  that  distinguished  aras- 
tycrat  who  was  now  smokin  and  laffin  in  our  room. 

My  Lord  Crabs  was,  as  I  preshumed,  about  GO  years 
old.  A  stowt,  burly,  red-faced,  bald-headed  nobleman, 
whose  nose  seemed  blushing  at  what  his  mouth  was 
continually  swallowing;  whose  hand,  praps,  trembled  :i 
little ;  and  whose  thy  and  legg  was  not  quite  so  full  or 
as  steddy  as  they  had  been  in  former  days.  But  he 
was  a  respecktabble,  fine-looking,  old  nobleman ;  and 
though,  it  must  be  confest,  ^  drunk  when  we  fust  made 
our  appearance  in  the  salong,  yet  by  no  means  moor  so 
than  a  reel  Doblemin  ought  to  be. 

"  What,  Algy  !  my  boy !"  shouts  out  his  lordship, 
advancing  and  seasing  master  by  the  hand,  "  doan't 
you  know  your  own  father?" 


100  THE    YELLOWPLl  Ml    PAPERS. 

Master  seemed  anythink  but  overhappy.  "  My 
lord,"  says  he,  looking  very  pail,  and  speakin  rayther 
slow,  "  I  didn't — I  confess — the  unexpected  pleasure — 
of  seeing  you  in  Paris.  The  fact  is,  sir,"  said  he,  re- 
covering himself  a  little  ;  "  the  fact  is,  there  was  such 
a  confounded  smoke  of  tobacco  in  the  room,  that  I  really 
could  not  see  who  the  stranger  was  who  had  paid  me 
such  an  unexpected  visit." 

"  A  bad  habit,  Algernon ;  a  bad  habit,"  said  my 
lord,  lighting  another  segar  :  "  a  disgusting  and  filthy 
practice,  which  you,  my  dear  child,  will  do  well  to  avoid. 
It  is  at  best,  dear  Algernon,  but  a  nasty,  idle  pastime, 
unfitting  a  man  as  well  for  mental  exertion  as  for  re- 
spectable  society ;  sacrificing,  at  once,  the  vigour  of  the 
intellect  and  the  graces  of  the  person.  By  the  by,  what 
infernal  bad  tobacco  they  have,  too,  in  this  hotel 
Could  not  you  send  your  servant  to  get  me  a  few  se 
gars  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris  ?  Give  him  a  five-franc  piece, 
and  let  him  go  at  once,  that's  a  good  fellow." 

Here  bis  lordship  hiccupt,  and  drank  off  a  fresh 
tumbler  of  shampang.  Very  sulkily,  master  drew  out 
the  coin,  and  sent  me  on  the  errint. 

Knowing  the  Cafe  de  Paris  to  be  shut  at  that  hour, 
I  didn't  Bay  a  word,  but  quietly  establisht  myself  in  the 
anteroom;  where,  as  it  happened  by  a  singler  coinst- 
dints,  I  could  hear  every  word  of  the  conversation  be- 
tween this  exlent  pair  of  relatifs. 

"Help  yourself,  and  get  another  bottle,"  says  my 
lord,  after  a  solium  paws.  My  poar  master,  the  king  of 
all  other  compnies  in  which  be  moved,  seamed  here  but 
to  play  secknd  fiddiJl,  and  went  to  the  cubbard,  from 


MK.    DEUOEACE.  101 


which  his  father  had  already  igstracted  two  bottils  of 
his  prime  Sillary. 

He  put  it  down  before  his  father,  coft,  spit,  opened 
the  windows,  stirred  the  fire,  yawned,  clapt  his  hand  to 
his  forehead,  and  suttnly  seamed  as  uneezy  as  a  genl/nn 
could  be.  But  it  was  of  no  use ;  the  old  one  would  not 
budg.  "  Help  yourself,"  says  he  again,  "  and  pass  me 
the  bottil." 

"  You  are  very  good,  father,"  says  master ;  "  but 
really,  I  neither  drink  nor  smoke." 

"  Right,  my  boy  :  quite  right.  Talk  about  a  good 
conscience  in  this  life — a  good  stomack  is  everythink. 
No  bad  nights,  no  headachs — eh  ?  Quite  cool  and  col- 
lected for  your  law  studies  in  the  morning  ?— eh  ?" 
And  the  old  nobleman  here  grinned,  in  a  manner  which 
would  have  done  creddit  to  Mr.  Grimoldi. 

Master  sate  pale  and  wincing,  as  I've  seen  a  pore 
soldier  under  the  cat.  He  didn't  anser  a  word.  His 
exlent  pa  went  on,  warming  as  he  continued  to  speak, 
and  drinking  a  fresh  glas  at  evry  full  stop. 

"  How  you  must  improve,  with  such  talents  and 
such  principles !  Why,  Algernon,  all  London  talks  of 
your  industry  and  perseverance  :  You're  not  merely  a 
philosopher,  man ;  hang  it !  you've  got  the  philoso- 
pher's stone.  Fine  rooms,  fine  horses,  champagne,  and 
all  for  200  a-year !" 

"  I  presume,  sir,"  says  my  master,  "  that  you  mean 
the  two  hundred  a-year  which  you  pay  me  ?" 

"The  very  sum,  my  boy;  the  very  sum!"  cries  my 
lord,  laffin  as  if  he  would  die.  "  Why,  that's  the  won- 
der! I  never  pay  the  two  hundred  a-year,  and  you 
keep  all  this  state  up  upon  nothing.     Give  me  your  se- 


102  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

cret,  O  you  young  Trismegistus  !  Tell  your  old  father 
})<>w  such  wonders  can  be  worked,  and  I  •will — yes,  then, 
upon  my  word,  I  will — pay  you  your  two  hundred  a- 
year !" 

"  Enfin,  my  lord,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  starting  up, 
and  losing  all  patience,  "  will  you  have  the  goodness  to 
tell  me  what  this  visit  means  ?  You  leave  me  to  starve, 
for  all  you  care ;  and  you  grow  mighty  facetious  be- 
cause I  earn  my  bread.  You  find  me  in  prosperity, 
and " 

"  Precisely,  my  boy ;  precisely.  Keep  your  temper, 
and  pass  that  bottle.  I  find  you  in  prosperity ;  and  a 
young  gentleman  of  your  genius  and  acquirements  asks 
me  why  I  seek  your  society  ?  Oh,  Algernon  !  Alger- 
non !  this  is  not  worthy  of  such  a  profound  philosopher. 
Why  do  I  seek  you  ?  Why,  because  you  are  in  pros- 
perity, O  my  son  !  else,  why  the  devil  should  I  bother 
myself  about  you  ?  Did  I,  your  poor  mother,  or  your 
family,  ever  get  from  you  a  single  affectionate  feeling  ? 
Did  we,  or  any  other  of  your  friends  or  intimates,  ever 
know  you  to  be  guilty  of  a  single  honest  or  generous 
action  ?  Did  we  ever  pretend  any  love  for  you,  or  you 
for  us  ?  Algernon  Deuceace,  you  don't  want  a  father 
to  tell  y<  >u  that  you  are  a  swindler  and  a  spendthrift ! 
I  have  paid  thousands  for  the  debts  of  yourself  and  jour 
brothers  ;  and,  if  you  pay  nobody  else,  I  am  determined 
you  shall  repay  me.  You  would  not  do  it  by  fair 
means,  when  I  wrote  to  you  and  asked  you  for  a  loan 
of  money.  I  knew  you  would  not.  Had  I  written 
again  to  warn  you  of  my  coming,  you  would  have  given 
me  the  slip ;  and  so  I  came,  uninvited,  to  force  you  to 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  108 


repay  me.     ThaCs  why  I  am  here,  Mr.  Algernon  ;  and 
so,  help  yourself  and  pass  the  bottle." 

After  this  speach,  the  old  genlmn  sunk  down  on  the 
sofa,  and  puffed  as  much  smoke  out  of  his  mouth  as  if 
he'd  been  the  chimley  of  a  steam-injian.  I  was  pleased, 
I  confess,  with  the  sean,  and  liked  to  see  this  venrabble 
and  virtuous  old  man  a  nocking  his  son  about  the  hed ; 
just  as  Deuceace  had  done  with  Mr.  Richard  Blewitt, 
as  I've  before  shewn.  Master's  face  was,  fust,  red-hot; 
next,  chawk-white ;  and  then,  sky-blew.  He  looked, 
for  all  the  world,  like  Mr.  Tippy  Cooke  in  the  tragady 
of  Frankinstang.     At  last,  he  mannidged  to  speek. 

"My  lord,'1  says  he,  "I  expected  when  I  saw  you 
that  some  such  scheme  was  on  foot.  Swindler  and 
spendthrift  as  I  am,  at  least  it  is  but  a  family  failing ; 
and  I  am  indebted  for  my  virtues  to  my  father's  pre- 
cious example.  Your  lordship  has,  I  perceive,  added 
drunkenness  to  the  list  of  your  accomplishments ;  and, 
I  suppose,  under  the  influence  of  that  gentlemanly  ex- 
citement, has  come  to  make  these  preposterous  proposi- 
tions to  me.  When  you  are  sober,  you  will,  perhaps, 
be  wise  enough  to  know,  that,  fool  as  I  may  be,  I  am 
not  such  a  fool  as  you  think  me ;  and  that  if  I  have 
got  money,  I  intend  to  keep  it — every  farthing  of  it, 
though  you  were  to  be  ten  times  as  drunk,  and  ten 
times  as  threatening,  as  you  are  now." 

"  Well,  well,  my  boy,"  said  Lord  Crabs,  who  seemed 
to  have  been  half-asleep  during  his  son's  oratium,  and 
received  all  his  snears  and  surcasms  with  the  most 
complete  good-humour  ;  "  well,  well,  if  you  will  resist — 
tant  ])is  pour  toi — I've  no  desire  to  ruin  you,  recollect, 
and  am  not  in  the  slightest  degree  angry ;  but  I  must 


104  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

and  will  have  a  thousand  pounds.  You  had  better  give 
me  the  money  at  once ;  it  will  cost  you  more  if  you 
don't." 

"  Sir,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  "  I  will  be  equally  can- 
did. I  would  not  give  you  a  farthing  to  save  you 
from " 

Here  I  thought  proper  to  open  the  doar,  and, 
touching  my  hat,  said,  "  I  have  been  to  the  Cafe  de 
Paris,  my  lord,  but  the  house  is  shut." 

"  Bon  :  there's  a  good  lad  ;  you  may  keep  the  five 
francs.  And  now,  get  me  a  candle  and  shew  me  down 
stairs." 

But  my  master  seized  the  wax  taper.  "Pardon 
me,  my  lord,"  says  he.  "  What !  a  servant  do  it,  when 
your  son  is  in  the  room  ?  Ah,  par  exemple,  my  dear 
father,"  said  he,  laughing,  "you  think  there  is  no 
politeness  left  among  us."     And  he  led  the  way  out. 

"  Good  night,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Lord  Crabs. 

"  God  bless  you,  sir,"  says  he.  "  Are  you  wrapped 
warm  ?     Mind  the  step  !" 

And  so  this  affeckshnate  pair  parted. 


CHAPTER  III. 

MIXEWVRIXG. 

Master  rose  the  nex  morning  with  a  dismal  coun- 
tinants — he  seamed  to  think  that  his  pa's  visit  boded 
him  no  good.  I  heard  him  muttering  at  his  brexfast, 
and  fumbling  among  his  hundred  pound  notes ;  once 
he  had  laid  a  parsle  of  them  aside  (I  knew  what  he 
meant),  to  send  'em  to  his  father.     "  But,  no,"  says  he 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  105 


at  last,  clutching  them  all  up  together  again,  and  throw- 
ing them  into  his  escritaw  :  "  what  harm  can  he  do  me  ? 
If  he  is  a  knave,  I  know  another  who's  full  as  sharp. 
Let's  see  if  we  cannot  beat  him  at  his  own  weapons." 
With  that,  Mr.  Deuceace  drest  himself  in  his  best 
clothes,  and  marched  off  to  the  Plas  Vandom,  to  pay 
his  cort  to  the  fair  widdo  and  the  intresting  orfn. 

It  was  abowt  ten  o'clock,  and  he  propoased  to  the 
ladies,  on  seeing  them,  a  number  of  planns  for  the  day's 
rackryation.  Riding  in  the  Body  Balong,  going  to  the 
Twillaries  to  see  King  Looy  Disweet  (who  was  then  the 
raining  sufferin  of  the  French  crownd)  go  to  Chappie, 
and,  finely,  a  dinner  at  5  o'clock  at  the  Caffy  de  Parry ; 
whents  they  were  all  to  ajourn,  to  see  a  new  peace  at 
the  theatre  of  the  Pot  St.  Martin,  called  Susannar  and 
the  Elders. 

The  gals  agread  to  every  think,  exsep  the  two  last 
prepositiums.  "We  have  an  engagement,  my  dear 
Mr.  Algernon,"  said  my  lady.  "  Look — a  very  kind 
letter  from  Lady  Bobtail."  And  she  handed  over  a 
pafewmd  noat  from  that  exolted  lady.     It  ran  thus  : — 

"Fbg.  St.  Honore,  Thursday,  Feb.  15,  1817. 
"  My  dear  Lady  Griffin, — It  is  an  age  since  we  met 
Harassing  public  duties  occupy  so  much  myself  and 
Lord  Bobtail,  that  we  have  scarce  time  to  see  our 
private  friends;  among  whom,  I  hope,  my  dear  Lady 
Griffin  will  allow  me  to  rank  her.  Will  you  excuse  so 
very  unceremonious  an  invitation,  and  dine  with  us  at 
the  Embassy  torday  \  We  shall  be  en  petit  comity  and 
shall  have  die  pleasure  of  hearing,  I  hope,  some  of  your 
charming  daugliT-T's  singing  in  the  evening.     I  ought, 


106  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

perhaps,  to  have  addressed  a  separate  note  to  dear  Miss 
Griffin  ;  but  I  hope  she  will  pardon  a  poor  diplomate. 
who  has  so  many  letters  to  write,  you  know. 

a  Farewell  till  seven,  when  I  positively  must  see  yon 
both.     Ever,  dearest  Lady  Griffin,  jour  affectionate 

"Eliza  Bobtail." 

Such  a  letter  from  the  ambassdriss,  brot  by  tht 
ambasdor's  Shassure,  and  sealed  with  his  seal  of  arms, 
would  affect  anybody  in  the  middling  ranx  of  life.  It 
droav  Lady  Griffin  mad  with  delight ;  and,  long  before 
my  master's  arrivle,  she'd  sent  Mortimer  and  Fitz- 
clarence,  her  two  footmin,  along  with  a  polite  reply  in 
the  affummatiff. 

Master  read  the  noat  with  no  such  fealinx  of  joy. 
He  felt  that  there  was  somethink  a-going  on  behind  the 
seans,  and,  though  he  could  not  tell  how,  was  sure  that 
some  danger  was  near  him.  That  old  fox  of  a  father  of 
his  had  begun  his  M'Inations  pretty  early ! 

Deuceace  handed  back  the  letter;  sneared,  and 
poohd,  and  hinted  that  such  an  invatation  was  an  in- 
sult at  best  (what  he  called  a  pees  ally) ;  and,  the  ladies 
might  depend  upon  it,  was  only  sent  because  Lady 
Bobtail  wanted  to  fill  up  two  spare  places  at  her  table. 
But  Lady  Griffin  and  miss  would  not  have  his  insin- 
wations ;  they  knew  too  fu  lords  ever  to  refuse  an  in- 
vitatium  from  any  one  of  them.  Go  they  would ;  and 
poor  Deuceace  must  dine  alone.  After  they  had  been 
on  their  ride,  and  had  had  their  other  amusemince, 
master  came  back  with  them,  chatted,  and  laft ;  he  was 
mighty  sarkastix  with  my  lady;  tender  and  sentrymentle 


MR.   DEUOEACE.  107 


witli  miss ;  and  left  them  both  in  high  sperrits  to  per- 
form their  twollet,  before  dinner. 

As  I  came  to  the  door  (for  I  was  as  famillyer  as  a 
servnt  of  the  house),  as  I  came  into  the  drawing-room 
to  announts  his  cab,  I  saw  master  very  quietly  taking 
his  pocket-book  (or  pot-fool,  as  the  French  call  it)  and 
thrusting  it  under  one  of  the  cushinx  of  the  sofa.  What 
game  is  this  ?  thinx  I. 

Why,  this  was  the  game.  In  abowt  two  hours, 
when  he  knew  the  ladies  were  gon,  he  pretends  to  be 
vastly  anxious  abowt  the  loss  of  his  potfolio ;  and  back 
he  goes  to  Lady  Griffinses,  to  seek  for  it  there. 

M  Pray,"  says  he,  on  going  in,  "  ask  Miss  Kicksey  if  I 
may  see  her  for  a  single  moment."  And  down  comes 
Miss  Kicksey,  quite  smiling,  and  happy  to  see  him. 

"  Law,  Mr.  Deuceace !"  says  she,  trying  to  blush 
as  hard  as  ever  she  could,  "  you  quite  surprise  me !  I 
don't  know  whether  I  ought,  really,  being  alone,  to  ad- 
mit a  gentleman." 

"  Nay,  don't  say  so,  dear  Miss  Kicksey  !  for  do  you 
know,  I  came  here  for  a  double  purpose — to  ask  about 
a  pocket-book  which  I  have  lost,  and  may,  perhaps, 
have  left  here ;  and  then,  to  ask  you  if  you  will  have 
the  great  goodness  to  pity  a  solitary  bachelor,  and  give 
him  a  cup  of  your  nice  tea  ?  " 

Nice  tea!  I  thot  I  should  have  split;  for,  I'm  blest 
if  master  had  eaten  a  morsle  of  dinner ! 

Never  mind :  down  to  tea  they  sate.  "  Do  you 
take  cream  and  sugar,  dear  sir  ?"  says  poar  Kicksey, 
with  a  voice  as  tender  as  a  tuttle-duff. 

"  Both,  dearest  Miss  Kicksey  !"  answers  master  ;  and 


108  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

stowed  in  a  power  of  sashong  and  muffinx  which  would 
have  done  honour  to  a  washawoman. 

I  sha'nt  describe  the  conversation  that  took  place 
betwigst  master  and  this  young  lady,  The  reader, 
praps,  knows  y  Deuceace  took  the  trouble  to  talk  to  her 
for  an  hour,  and  to  swallow  all  her  tea.  He  wanted  to 
find  out  from  her  all  she  knew  about  the  famly  money 
matters,  and  settle  at  once  which  of  the  two  Grifninses 
he  should  marry. 

The  poor  thing,  of  cors,  was  no  match  for  such  a 
man  as  my  master.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  had, 
if  I  may  use  the  igspression,  "  turned  her  inside  out." 
He  knew  every  thing  that  she  knew,  and  that,  poar  crea- 
ture, was  very  little.  There  was  nine  thousand  a-year, 
she  had  heard  say,  in  money,  in  houses,  in  banks  in 
Injar,  and  what  not.  Boath  the  ladies  signed  papers 
for  selling  or  buying,  and  the  money  seemed  equilly 
divided  betwigst  them. 

Nine-thousand  a-year  !  Deuceace  went  away,  his 
cheex  tingling,  his  art  beating.  He,  without  a  penny, 
could  nex  morning,  if  he  liked,  be  master  of  five  thou- 
sand per  hannurn ! 

Yes.     But  how  ?  Which  had  the  money,  the  mother 

or  the  daughter  ?     All  the  tea-drinking  had  not  taught 

him  this  piece  of  nollidge ;  and  Deuceace  thought  it  a 

pity  that  he  could  not  marry  both. 

***** 

The  ladies  came  back  at  night,  mightaly  pleased 
with  their  reception  at  the  amba>dor's  ;  and,  stepping 
out  of  their  carridge,  bid  coachmin  drive  on  with  a  gen- 
tleman, who  had  handed  them  out — a  stout  old 
gentleman,  who  shook  hand-  most  tenderly  at  parting, 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  109 


and  promised  to  call  often  upon  my  Lady  Griffin.  He 
was  so  polite,  that  he  wanted  to  mount  the  stairs  with 
her  ladyship ;  but  no,  she  would  not  suffer  it.  "  Ed- 
ward," says  she  to  the  coachmin,  quite  loud,  and  pleased 
that  all  the  people  in  the  hotel  should  hear  her,  "  you 
will  take  the  carriage,  and  drive  his  lordship  home. 
Now,  can  you  guess  who  his  lordship  was  ?  The  Right 
Hon.  the  Earl  of  Crabs,  to  be  sure  ;  the  very  old  gnlmn 
whom  I  had  seen  on  such  charming  terms  with  his  son 
the  day  before.  Master  knew  this  the  nex  day,  and  be- 
gan to  think  he  had  been  a  fool  to  deny  his  pa  the 
thousand  pound. 

Now,  though  the  suckmstansies  of  the  dinner  at  the 
ambasdor's  only  came  to  my  years  some  time  after,  I 
may  as  well  relate  'em  here,  Avord  for  word,  as  they  was 
told  me  by  the  very  genlmn  who  waited  behind  Lord 
Crabseses  chair. 

There  was  only  a  "  petty  comity"  at  dinner,  as  Lady 
Bobtail  said  ;  and  my  Lord  Crabs  was  placed  betwigst 
the  two  Griffinses,  being  mighty  ellygant  and  palite  to 
both.  "  Allow  me,"  says  he  to  Lady  G.  (between  the 
soop  and  the  fish),  "  my  dear  madam,  to  thank  you — 
fervently  thank  you,  for  your  goodness  to  my  poor  boy. 
Your  ladyship  is  too  young  to  experience,  but,  I  am 
sure,  far  too  tender  not  to  understand  the  gratitude 
which  must  fill  a  fond  j"»arent1s  heart  for  kindness  shewn 
to  his  child.  Believe  me,"  says  my  lord,  looking  her 
full  and  tenderly  in  the  face,  "that  the  favours  you 
have  done  to  another  have  been  done  equally  to  myself, 
and  awaken  in  my  bosom  the  same  grateful  and  affec- 
tionate feelings  with  which  you  have  already  inspired 
my  son  Algernon." 


110  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

Lady  Griffin  bluslit,  and  droopt  her  head  till  her 
ringlets  fell  into  her  fish-plate  ;  and  she  swallowed  Lord 
Crabs' s  flumiyjust  as  she  would  so  many  musharuins. 
My  lord  (whose  powers  of  slack-jaw  was  notoarious)  nex 
addrast  another  spitch  to  Miss  Griffin.  He  said  he'd 
heard  how  Deuceace  was  situated.  Miss  blush t — what 
a  happy  dog  he  was — Miss  blusht  crimson,  and  then 
he  sighed  deeply,  and  began  eating  his  turbat  and  lob- 
ster sos.  Master  was  a  good  un  at  flumry ;  but,  law 
bless  you  !  he  wras  no  moar  equill  to  the  old  man  than 
a  molehill  is  to  a  mounting.  Before  the  night  was 
over,  he  had  made  as  much  progress  as  another  man 
would  in  a  ear.  One'  almost  forgot  his  red  nose  and 
his  big  stomick,  and  his  wicked  leering  i's,  in  his  gentle 
insiniwating  woice,  his  fund  of  annygoats,  and,  above 
all,  the  bewtifie,  morl,  religious,  and  honrabble  toan  of 
his  genral  conversation.  Praps  you  will  say  that  these 
ladies  were,  for  such  rich  pipple,  mightily  esaly  capti- 
vated ;  but  recklect,  my  dear  sir,  that  they  were  fresh 
from  Injar, — that  they'd  not  sean  many  lords, — that 
they  ad  oared  the  peeridge,  as  every  honest  woman  does 
in  England  who  has  proper  feelinx,  and  has  read  the 
fashnabble  novvles, — and  that  here  at  Paris  was  their 
fust  step  into  fashnabble  sosiaty. 

Well,  after  dinner,  while  Miss  Matilda  was  singing 
"  Die  tantie"  or  "  Dip  your  chair"  or  some  of  them 
sellabrated  Italyian  hairs  (when  she  began  this  squall, 
hang  me  if  she'd  ever  stop),  my  lord  gets  hold  of  Lady 
Griffin  again,  and  gradgaly  begins  to  talk  to  her  in  a 
very  different  strane. 

"  What  a  blessing  it  is  for  us  all,"  Bays  he,  "that 


ME.    M5U0E  \('K.  1  1  1 


Algernon  has  found   a  friend  so  respectable   as  your 
ladyship." 

"  Indeed,  my  lord  ;  and  why  ?  I  suppose  I  am 
not  the  only  respectable  friend  that  Mr.  Deuceace 
has  r 

"No,  surely;  not  the  only  one  he  has  had:  bis 
birth,  and,  permit  me  to  say,  his  relationship  to  myself, 
have  procured  him  many.  But — "  (here  my  lord 
heaved  a  very  affecting  and  large  sigh.) 

"  But  what  ?"  says  my  lady,  laffing  at  the  igspres- 
sion  of  his  dismal  face.  "  You  don't  mean  that  Mr. 
Deuceace  has  lost  them  or  is  unworthy  of  them  ?" 

"  I  trust  not,  my  dear  madam,  I  trust  not ;  but  he 
is  wild,  thoughtless,  extravagant,  and  embarrassed  ;  and 
you  know  a  man  under  these  circumstances  is  not  very 
particular  as  to  his  associates." 

"  Embarrassed  ?  Good  heavens  !  He  says  he  has 
two  thousand  a-year  left  him  by  a  godmother  ;  and  he 
does  not  seem  even  to  spend  his  income — a  very  hand" 
some  independence,  too,  for  a  bachelor. 

My  lord  nodded  his  head  sadly,  and  said, — "  Will 
your  ladyship  give  me  your  word  of  honour  to  be  se- 
cret ?  My  son  has  but  a  thousand  a-year,  which  I  allow 
him,  and  is  heavily  in  debt.  He  has  played,  Madam, 
I  fear ;  and  for  this  reason  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  that  he 
is  in  a  respectable  domestic  circle,  where  he  may  leam, 
in  the  presence  of  far  greater  and  purer  attractions,  to 
forget  the  dice-box,  and  the  low  company  which  has 
been  his  bane." 

My  lady  Griffin  looted  very  grave  indeed.  Was  it 
true  ?  Was  Deuceace  sincere  in  his  professions  of  love, 
or  was  he  only  a  sharper  wooing  her  for  her  monev? 


112  THE    YELLOWPIASH    PAPERS. 

Could  she  doubt  her  informer  ?  his  own  father,  and, 
what's  more,  a  real  flesh  and  blood  pear  of  parlyment  ? 
She  determined  she  would  try  him.  Praps  she  did  not 
know  she  had  liked  Deuceace  so  much,  until  she  kem 
to  feel  how  much  she  should  hate  him,  if  she  found  he'd 
been  playing  her  false. 

The  evening  was  over,  and  back  they  came,  as  we've 
seen, — my  lord  driving  home  in  my  lady's  carridge, 
her  ladyship  and  Miss  walking  up  stairs  to  their  own 
apartmince. 

Here,  for  a  wonder,  was  poar  Miss  Kicksy  quite  happy 
and  smiling,  and  evidently  full  of  a  secret, — something 
mighty  pleasant  to  judge  from  her  loox.  She  did  not 
long  keep  it.  As  she  was  making  tea  for  the  ladies 
(for  in  that  house  they  took  a  cup  regular  before  bed- 
time), "  "Well,  my  lady,"  says  she,  "  who  do  you  think 
has  been  to  drink  tea  with  me  ?"  Poar  thing,  a  frend- 
ly  face  was  an  event  in  her  life — a  tea-party  quite  a 
hera ! 

"  Why,  perhaps,  Lenoir,  my  maid,"  says  my  lady, 
looking  grave.  "  I  wish,  Miss  Kicksy,  you  would  not 
demean  yourself  by  mixing  with  my  domestics.  Recol- 
lect, madam,  that  you  are  sister  to  Lady  Griffin." 

"  No,  my  lady,  it  was  not  Lenoir ;  it  was  a  gentle- 
man, and  a  handsome  gentleman,  too." 

"  Oh,  it  was  Monsieur  de  l'Orge,  then,"  says  miss ; 
"  he  promised  to  bring  me  some  guitar-strings." 

"  Xo,  nor  yet  M.  de  l'Orge.  He  came,  but  was  not 
so  polite  as  to  ask  for  me.  "What  do  you  think  of  your 
own  beau,  the  honorable  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace  ;"  and, 
so  saying,  poar  Kicksey  clapped  her  hands  together,  and 
looked  as  joyfle  as  if  she'd  come  into  a  fortin. 


MK.    DEUCEACE.  113 


"  Mr.  Deuceace  here ;  and  why,  pray  ?"  says  my 
lady,  who  recklected  all  that  his  exlent  pa  had  been 
saying  to  her. 

"  Why,  in  the  first  place,  he  had  left  his  pocket- 
book,  and  in  the  second,  he  wanted,  he  said,  a  dish  of 
my  nice  tea,  which  he  took,  and  stayed  with  me  an 
hour,  or  moar." 

"  And  pray  Miss  Kicksey,"  said  Miss  Matilda,  quite 
contempshsuly,  "  what  may  have  been  the  subject  of 
your  conversation  with  Mr.  Algernon  ?  Did  you  talk 
politics,  or  music,  or  fine  arts,  or  metaphysics !"  Miss 
M.  being  what  was  called  a  blue  (as  most  hump-backed 
women  in  sosiaty  are),  always  made  a  pint  to  rpeak  on 
these  grand  subjects. 

"  No,  indeed  ;  he  talked  of  no  such  awful  matters. 
If  he  had,  you  know,  Matilda,  I  should  never  have  un- 
derstood him.  First  we  talked  about  the  weather,  next 
about  muffins  and  crumpets.  Crumpets;  he  said,  he 
liked  best ;  and  then  we  talked  (here  Miss  Kicksy's 
voice  fell  about  poor  dear  Sir  George  in  heaven  !  what 
a  good  husband  he  was,  and " 

"  What  a  good  fortune  he  left, — eh,  Miss  Kicksy  ?" 
says  my  lady,  with  a  hard,  snearing  voice,  and  a  dia- 
bollicle  grin. 

"Yes,  dear  Leonora,  he  spoke  so  respectfully  of 
your  blessed  husband,  and  seemed  so  anxious  about 
you  and  Matilda,  it  was  quite  charming  to  hear  him, 
dear  man  !" 

"  And  pray,  Miss  Kicksy,  what  did  you  tell  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  told  him  that  you  and  Leonora  had  nine 
thousand  a-year,  and " 

"What  then  !" 


114  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


"  Why  nothing  ;  that  is  all  I  know.  I  am  sure,  I 
wish  I  had  ninety,"  says  poor  Kicksy,  her  eyes  turning 
to  heaven. 

"  Ninety  fiddlesticks  !  Did  not  Mr.  Deuceace  ask 
how  the  money  was  left,  and  to  which  of  us  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  I  could  not  tell  him." 

"  I  knew  it !"  says  my  lady,  slapping  down  her  tea- 
cup,— "  I  knew  it !" 

"  Well !"  says  Miss  Matilda,  "  and  why  not  Lady 
Griffin  ?  There  is  no  reason  you  should  break  your 
teacup,  because  Algernon  asks  a  harmless  question. 
He  is  not  mercenary;  he  is  all  candour,  innocence, 
generosity  !  He  is  himself  blest  with  a  sufficient  portion 
of  the  world's  goods  to  be  content ;  and  often  and 
often  har  he  told  me,  he  hoped  the  woman  of  his  choice 
might  come  to  him  without  a  penny,  that  he  might 
shew  the  purity  of  his  affection." 

"  I've  no  cfoubt,"  says  my  lady.  "  Perhaps  the  lady 
of  his  choice  is  Miss  Matilda  Griffin  !"  and  she  flunff  out 
of  the  room,  slamming  the  door,  and  leaving  Miss  Ma- 
tilda to  bust  into  tears,  as  was  her  reglar  custom,  and 
pour  her  loves  and  woas  into  the  buzzom  of  Miss  Kicksy. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

"  HITTING  THE  NALE  ON  THE  HEDD." 

The  nex  morning,  down  came  me  and  master  to  Lady 
Griffinses, — I  amusing  myself  with  the  gals  in  the  an- 
tyroom,  he  paying  his  devours  to  the  ladies  in  the 
salong.  Miss  was  thrumming  on  her  gitter  ;  my  lady 
was  before  a  great  box  of  papers,  busy  with  accounts, 


MK.    DEUCEACE.  115 


bankers'  books,  lawyers'  letters,  and  what  not.  Law 
bless  us  !  it's  a  kind  of  bisniss  I  should  like  well  enuff, 
especially  when  my  hannual  account  was  seven  or  eight 
thousand  on  the  right  side,  like  my  lady's.  My  lady 
in  this  house  kep  all  these  matters  to  herself.  Miss 
was  a  vast  deal  too  sentrimentle  to  mind  business. 

Miss  Matilda's  eyes  sparkled  as  master  came  in ; 
she  pinted  gracefully  to  a  place  on  the  sofy  beside  her, 
which  Deuceace  took.  My  lady  only  looked  up  for  a 
moment,  smiled  very  kindly,  and  down  went  her  head 
among  the  papers  agen,  as  busy  as  a  B. 

"  Lady  Griffin  has  had  letters  from  London,"  says 
miss,  from  nasty  lawyers  and  people.  Come  here  and 
sit  by  me,  you  naughty  man,  you  !" 

And  down  sat  master.  "  Willingly,"  says  he,  "  my 
dear  Miss  Griffin  ;  why,  I  declare  it  is  quite  a  tete-a- 
tete? 

"  Well,"  says  miss  (after  the  prillimnary  fiumries, 
in  coarse),  "  we  met  a  friend  of  yours  at  the  embassy, 
Mr.  Deuceace." 

"  My  father,  doubtless  ;  he  is  a  great  friend  of  the 
ambassador,  and  surprised  me  myself  by  a  visit  the 
night  before  last." 

"  What  a  dear  delightful  old  man !  how  he  loves 
you,  Mr.  Deuceace  !" 

"  Oh,  amazingly !"  says  master,  throwing  his  i's  to 
heaven. 

"  He  spoke  of  nothing  but  you,  and  such  praises  of 
you !" 

Master  breathed  more  freely.  "  He  is  very  good, 
my  dear  father ;  but  blind,  as  all  fathers  are,  he  is  so 
partial  and  attached  to  me." 


116  THE    YELLOWPLUSII    PAPERS. 


"  He  spoke  of  your  being  his  favourite  child,  and 
regretted  that  you  were  not  his  eldest  son.  '  I  can  but 
leave  him  the  small  portion  of  a  younger  brother,'  he 
said ;  '  but  never  mind,  he  has  talents,  a  noble  name, 
and  an  independence  of  his  own.' 

"  An  independence  ?  yes,  oh  yes  !  I  am  quite  inde- 
pendent of  my  father." 

"Two  thousand  pounds  a-year  left  you  by  your 
godmother ;  the  very  same  you  told  us  you  know." 

"  Neither  more  nor  less,"  says  master,  bobbing  his 
head  ;  "  a  sufficiency,  my  dear  Miss  Griffin, — to  a  man 
of  my  moderate  habits  an  ample  provision." 

"  By  the  by,"  cries  out  Lady  Griffin,  interruping  the 
conversation,  u  you  who  are  talking  about  money  mat- 
ters there,  I  wish  you  would  come  to  the  aid  of  poor 
me  !  Come,  naughty  boy,  and  help  me  out  with  this 
long,  long  sum." 

JJidnH  he  go — that's  all !  My  i,  how  his  i's  shone, 
as  he  skipt  across  the  room,  and  seated  himself  by  my 
lady ! 

"  Look  !"  said  she,  "  my  agents  write  me  over  that 
they  have  received  a  remittance  of  7200  rupees,  at  2s. 
9d.  a  rupee.  Do  tell  me  what  the  sum  is,  in  pounds 
and  shillings  ;"  which  master  did  with  great  gravity. 

"Nine  hundred  and  ninety  pounds.  Good;  I  dare 
say  you  are  right.  I'm  sure  I  can't  go  through  the  fa- 
tigue to  see.  And  now  comes  another  question.  Whose 
money  i-  this,  mine  or  Matilda's  \  You  see  it  is  the  in- 
terest of  a  sum  in  India,  which  we  have  not  had  occa- 
sion  t<>  touch  ;  and,  according  to  the  terms  of  poor  Sir 
George's  will,  I  really  don't  know  how  to  dispose  of  the 


MR.    DKTCKACE.  117 

money,  except  to  spend  it.  Matilda,  what  shall  we  do 
with  it  ?" 

"  La,  ma'am,  I  wish  you  would  arrange  the  busi- 
ness yourself." 

"  Well,  then,  Algernon,  you  tell  me ;"  and  she  laid 
her  hand  on  his,  and  looked  him  most  pathetiekly  in 
the  face. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  I  don't  know  how  Sir  George 
left  his  money  ;  you  must  let  me  see  his  will,  first." 

"  Oh,  willingly." 

Master's  chair  seemed  suddenly  to  have  got  springs 
in  the  cushns  ;  he  was  obliged  to  hold  himself  down. 

"  Look  here,  I  have  only  a  copy,  taken  by  my  hand 
from  Sir  George's  own  manuscript.  Soldiers,  you  know, 
do  not  employ  lawyers  much,  and  this  was  written  on 
the  night  before  going  into  action."  And  she  read, 
"  '  I,  George  Griffin,'  &c.  <fec. — you  know  how  these 
things  begin — '  being  now  of  sane  mind' — um,  urn,  um 
— '  leave  to  my  friends,  Thomas  Abraham  Hicks,  a  co- 
lonel in  the  H.  E.  I.  Company's  Service,  and  to  John 
Monro  Mackirkincroft  (of  the  house  of  Huffle,  Mackir- 
kinci'oft,  and  Dobbs,  at  Calcutta),  the  whole  of  my  pro- 
perty, to  be  realised  as  speedily  as  they  may  (consistent- 
ly with  the  interests  of  the  property),  in  trust  for  my 
wife,  Leonora  Emilia  Griffin  (born  L.  E.  Kicksy),  and 
my  only  legitimate  child,  Matilda  Griffin.  The  interest 
its ul ting  from  such  property  to  be  paid  to  them,  share 
and  share  alike;  the  principal  to  remain  untouched,  in 
the  names  of  the  said  T.  A.  Hicks  and  J.  M.  Mackirkin- 
croft,  until  the  death  of  my  wife,  Leonora  Emilia  Griffin, 
when  it  shall  be  paid  to  my  daughter,  Matilda  Griffin, 
her  heirs,  executors,  or  assigns.'  " 


118  THE    VELLOWPLISH    PAPERS. 

"  There,"  said  my  lady,  "  we  won't  read  any  more  ; 
all  the  rest  is  stuff.  But,  now  you  know  the  whole 
business,  tell  us  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  money  .'" 

"  Why,  the  money,  unquestionably,  should  be  di- 
vided between  you." 

"  Tant  mieux,  say  I,  I  really  thought  it  had  been  all 

Matilda's." 

****** 

There  was  a  paws  for  a  minit  or  two  after  the  will 
had  been  read.  Master  left  the  desk  at  which  he  had 
been  seated  with  her  ladyship,  paced  up  and  down  the 
room  for  a  while,  and  then  came  round  to  the  place 
where  Miss  Matilda  was  seated.  At  last  he  said,  in  a 
low,  trembling  voice, 

"  I  am  almost  sorry,  my  dear  Lady  Griffin,  that  you 
have  read  that  will  to  me;  for  an  attachment  such  as 
must  seem,  I  fear,  mercenary,  Avhen  the  object  of  it  is  so 
greatly  favoured  by  worldly  fortune.  Miss  Griffin — Ma- 
tilda !  I  know  I  may  say  the  word ;  your  dear  eyes 
grant  me  the  permission.  I  need  not  tell  you,  or  you, 
dear  mother-in-law,  how  long,  how  fondly,  I  have  adored 
you.  My  tender,  my  beautiful  Matilda,  I  will  not  affect 
t'<  Bay  I  have  not  read  your  heart  ere  this,  and  that  I 
have  not  known  the  preference  with  which  you  have 
honoured  me.  S])eak  it,  dear  girl !  from  your  own 
sweet  lips,  in  the  presence  of  an  affectionate  parent,  utter 
the  sentence  which  is  to  seal  my  happiness  for  life.  Ma- 
tilda, dearest  Matilda!  say,  oh  say,  that  you  love  me!" 

Mi—  M.  shivered,  turned  pail,  rowled  her  eyes  about, 
and  f* -11  on  master's  neck,  whispering  hodiblV,  " I do/" 

••  Mv  lady  looked  at  the  pair  for  a  moment  with  her 
teeth  grinding,  her  i's  glaring,  her  busm  throbbing,  and 


MB.    DECCf.ACE.  119 


her  face  chock  -white,  for  all  the  world  like  Madam 
Pasty,  in  the  oppra  of  Mydear  (when  she's  goin  to  mud- 
der  her  childring,  you  recklect),  and  out  she  flounced 
from  the  room,  without  a  word,  knocking  down  poar 
me,  who  happened  to  be  very  near  the  dor,  and  leaving 
my  master  along  with  his  crook-back  mistress. 

I've  repotted  the  speech  he  made  to  her  pretty  well. 
The  fact  is,  I  got  it  in  a  ruff  copy,  which,  it'  any  boddy 
likes,  they  may  see  at  Mr.  Frazierses,  only  on  the  copy 
it's  wrote,  u Lady  Griffin,  Leonora!"  instead  of  Miss 
Griffin  Matilda"  as  in  the  abuff.  and  so  on. 

Master  had  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  this  time, 
he  thought ;  but  his  adventors  an't  over  yet. 

CHAPTER   V. 

THE    GRIFFIN'S    CLAWS. 

Well,  master  had  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head 
this  time  :  thanx  to  luck — the  crooked  one,  to  be  sure, 
but  then  it  had  the  goold  nobb,  which  was  the  part  Deu- 
ceace  most  valued,  as  well  he  should ;  being  a  conny- 
shure  as  to  the  relletif  valyou  of  pretious  metals,  and 
much  preferring  virging  goold  like  this  to  poor  old  bat- 
tered iron  like  my  Lady  Griffin. 

And  so,  in  spite  of  his  father  (at  which  old  noble- 
niin  Mr.  1  teuceace  now  snapt  his  fingers),  in  spite  of  his 
detts  (which,  to  do  him  Justas,  had  never  stood  much 
in  his  way),  and  in  spite  of  his  povatty,  idleness,  extra- 
vagana,  swindling,  and  debotcheries  of  all  kinds  (which 
an't  generally  very  favorabble  to  a  young  man  who  has 
to  make  his  way  in  the  world) ;  in  spite  of  all,  there  he 


120  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

was,  I  say,  at  the  topp  of  the  trea,  the  fewcher  master 
of  a  perfect  fortun,  the  defianced  husband  of  a  fool  of  a 
wife.  What  can  mortial  man  want  more?  Vishns  of 
ambishn  now  occupied  his  soal.  Shooting  boxes,  oppra 
boxes,  money  boxes  always  full ;  hunters  at  Melton  ;  a 
seat  in  the  House  of  Commins,  Heaven  knows  what ! 
and  not  a  poar  footman,  who  only  describes  what  he's 
seen,  and  can't  in  cors,  pennytrate  into  the  idears  and 
the  busms  of  men. 

You  may  be  shore  that  the  three-cornerd  noats  came 
pretty  thick  now  from  the  Griflmses.  Miss  was  always 
a  writing  them  befoar ;  and  now,  nite,  noon,  and  morn- 
ink,  breakfast,  dinner,  and  sopper,  in  they  came,  till  my 
pantry  (for  master  never  read  'em,  and  I  carried  'em  out) 
was  puffickly  into]  rabble  from  the  oder  of  musk,  amby- 
grease,  bargymot,  and  other  sense  with  which  they  were 
impregniated.  Here's  the  contense  of  three  on  'em, 
which  I've  kep  in  my  dex  these  twenty  years  as  skew- 
riosities.  Faw !  I  can  smel  'em  at  this  very  minit,  as  I 
am  copying  them  down. 

Billy  Doo.     No.  I. 

Monday  morning,  2  o'clock. 
"Tis  the  witching  hour  of  night.  Luna  illumines 
my  chamber,  and  falls  upon  my  sleepless  pillow.  By  her 
light  I  am  inditing  these  words  to  thee,  my  Algernon. 
My  brave  and  beautiful,  my  soul's  lord  !  when  shall  the 
time  come  when  the  tedious  night  shall  not  separate  us, 
nor  the  blessed  clay  ?  Twelve  !  one  !  two  !  I  have 
heard  the  bells  chime,  and  the  quarters,  and  never  cease 
to  think  of  my  husband.    My  adored  Percy,  pardon  the 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  121 


girlish  confession, — I  have  kissed  the  letter  at  this  place. 
Will  thy  lips  press  it  too,  and  remain  for  a  moment  on 
the  spot  which  has  been  equally  saluted  by  your 

Matilda  ?" 

This  was  the  fust  letter,  and  was  brot  to  our  house 
by  one  of  the  poar  footmin,  Fitzclarence,  at  sicks  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  I  thot  it  was  for  life  and  death,  and 
woak  master  at  that  extraornary  hour,  and  gave  it  to 
him.  I  shall  never  forgit  him,  when  he  red  it;  he 
cramped  it  up,  and  he  oust  and  swoar,  applying  to  the 
lady  who  roat,  the  genlmn  that  brought  it,  and  me  who 
introjuiced  it  to  his  notice,  such  a  collection  of  epitafs  as 
I  seldum  hered,  excep  at  Billinxgit.  The  fact  is  thiss, 
for  a  fust  letter,  miss's  noat  was  rather  too  strong,  and 
sentymentle.  But  that  \\as  her  way;  she  was  always 
reading  melanchi  >ly  st<  »arv  books — Thaduse  of  Wawsaw, 

O  If  J  ' 

the  Sorrows  of  Mac  Whirter,  and  such  like. 

After  about  6  of  them,  master  never  yoused  to  read 
them ;  but  handid  them  over  to  me,  to  see  if  there  was 
any  think  in  them  which  must  be  answered,  in  order  to 
kip  up  appearuntses.     The  next  letter  is 

"No.  II. 

"Beloved!  to  what  strange  madnesses  will  passion 
lead  one!  Lady  Griffin,  since  your  avowal  yesterday, 
lias  nut  spoken  a  word  to  your  poor  Matilda  ;  has  de- 
clared that  she  will  admit  no  one  (heigho !  not  even 
you,  my  Algernon) ;  and  has  locked  herself  in  her  own 
dressing-room.  I  do  believe  that  she  is  jealous,  and  fan- 
rics  that  von  were  in  love  with  her !     Ha,  ha!    I  could 


122  l  HE  yei.i.uw  ri.rsii    papers. 


have  told  her  another  tale — n'est-ee  pas  ?    Adieu,  adieu, 
adieu !     A  thousand,  thousand,  million  kisses  ! 

"M.  G. 

"Monday  afternoon,  2  o'clock." 

There  was  another  letter  kem  Defore  bedtime ;  for 
though  me  and  master  called  at  the  Griffinses,  we 
wairnt  aloud  to  enter  at  no  price.  Mortimer  and  Fitz- 
clarence  grind  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say  we  were  going 
to  be  relations ;  but  I  dont  spose  master  was  very  sorry 
when  he  was  obleached  to  come  back  without  seeing- 
the  fare  objict  of  his  affeckshns. 

Well,  on  Chewsdy  there  was  the  same  game ;  ditto 
on  Wensday ;  only,  when  we  called  there,  who  should 
we  see  but  our  father,  Lord  Crabs,  who  was  waiving 
his  hand  to  Miss  Kioksey,  and  saying  he  should  be  back 
to  dinner  at  7,  just,  as  me  and  master  came  up  the 
stares.  There  was  no  admittns  for  us  though.  "Bah  ! 
bah !  never  mind,"  says  my  lord,  taking  his  son 
affeckshnately  by  the  hand.  "  What,  two  strings  to  your 
bow  ;  ay,  Algernon  ?  The  dowager  a  little  jealous,  miss 
a  little  lovesick.  But  my  lady's  fit  of  anger  will  vanish, 
and  I  promise  you,  my  boy,  that  you  shall  see  your  fair 
one  to-morrow.1' 

And,  so  saying,  my  lord  walked  master  down  stares, 
looking  al  him  as  tender  and  affeckshnat,  and  speaking 
to  him  as  sweet  as  posbill.  Master  did  not  know  what 
to  think  of  it.  He  never  new  what  game  his  old  father 
was  at ;  only  he  somehow  felt  that  he  had  got  his  head 
in  a  net,  in  spite  of  his  suxess  on  Sunday.  I  knew  it — 
I  knew  it  quite  well,  as  soon  as  I  saw  the  old  genlmn 
igsammin  him,  by  a  kind  of  smile;  which  came  over  his 


Mi;.    DEUCE  ACE.  123 

old  face,  and  was  something  betwigst  the  angellic  and 
the  direbollicle. 

But  master's  dowts  were  cleared  up  nex  day,  and 
every  thing  was  bright  again.  At  brexfast,  in  comes 
a  note  with  inclosier,  boath  of  witch  I  here  copy : 

"No.  IX. 

"  Thursday  Morning. 

"Victoria,  Victoria!  Mamma  has  yielded  at  last; 
not  her  consent  to  our  union,  but  her  consent  to  receive 
you  as  before;  and  has  promised  to  forget  the  past. 
Silly  woman,  how  could  she  ever  think  of  you  as  any- 
thing but  the  lover  of  your  Matilda?  I  am  in  a  whirl  of 
delicious  joy  and  passionate  excitement.  I  have  been 
awake  all  this  long  night,  thinking  of  thee,  my  Alger- 
non, and  longing  for  the  blissful  hour  of  meeting. 

"Come!  M.  G." 

This  is  the  inclosier  from  my  lady : 

"  I  will  not  tell  yon  that  your  behaviour  on  Sunday 
did  not  deeply  shock  me.  I  had  been  foolish  enough 
to  think  of  other  plans,  and  to  fancy  your  heart  (if  you 
had  any)  was  fixed  elsewhere  than  on  one  at  whose 
foibles  you  have  often  laughed  with  me,  and  whose 
person  at  least  cannot  have  charmed  you. 

"  My  step-daughter  will  not,  I  presume,  marry  with- 
out at  least  going  through  the  ceremony  of  asking  my 
consent;  I  cannot,  as  yet,  give  it.  Have  I  not  reason 
to  doubt  whether  she  will  be  happy  in  trusting  herself 
to  you  .' 

"But  she  is  of  age,  and  has  the  right  to  receive  in 


124  THE    YELLOWPLISH    PAPERS. 

her  own  house  all  those  who  may  be  agreeable  to  her, 
— certainly  you,  who  arc  likely  to  be  one  clay  so  nearly 
connected  with  her.  If  I  have  honest  reason  to  believe 
that  your  love  for  Miss  Griffin  is  sincere;  if  I  find  in  a 
few  months  that  you  yourself  are  still  desirous  to  marry 
her,  I  can,  of  course,  place  no  further  obstacles  in 
your  way. 

"  You  are  welcome,  then,  to  return  to  our  hotel. 
I  cannot  promise  to  receive  you  as  I  did  of  old ;  you 
would  despise  me  if  I  did.  I  can  promise,  however,  to 
think  no  more  of  all  that  has  passed  between  us,  and 
yield  up  my  own  happiness  for  that  of  the  daughter  of 
my  dear  husband. 

"L.  E.  <;." 

Well,  now,  an't  this  a  manly,  straitforard  letter 
enough,  and  natral  from  a  woman  whom  we  had,  to 
confess  the  truth,  treated  most  scuwily  !  Master  thought 
so,  and  went  and  made  a  tender,  respeckful  speach  to 
Lady  Griffin  (a  little  numry  costs  nothink).  Grave  and 
sorrofle  lie  kist  her  hand,  and,  speakiii  in  a  very  low 
adgitayted  voice,  calld  Ilevn  to  witness  how  he  deplord 
that  his  conduct  should  ever  have  given  rise  to  such  an 
unfortnt  ideer :  hut  if  he  might  offer  her  esteem,  respect, 
tie-  warmesl  ami  tenderest  admiration,  he  trusted  she 
would  accept  the  same,  and  a  deal  moar  rlumry  of  the 
kind,  with  dark,  solium,  glansis  of  the  eyes,  and  plenty 
of  white  jiockit  hankercher. 

Ee  thought  he'd  made  all  safe.     Poar  fool!  he  was 
in   a   net — sich  a  net  as  I  never  yet  see  set  to  ketch  a 
j.  in. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  125 


CHAPTER  VI. 


TI1E    JEWEL. 


The  Shevalier  de  l'Orge,  the  young  Frenchmin  whom  I 
wrote  of  in  my  last,  who  had  been  rather  shy  of  his 
visits  while  master  was  coming  it  so  very  strong,  now 
came  back  to  his  old  place  by  the  side  of  Lady  Griffin  ; 
there  was  no  love  now,  though,  betwigst  him  and 
master,  although  the  shevallier  had  got  his  lady  back 
agm,  Deuceace  being  compleatly  devoted  to  his  crookid 
V.'.mus. 

The  shevalier  was  a  little,  pale,  moddist,  insinifishnt 
creature ;  and  I  shoodn't  have  thought,  from  his  ap- 
pearants,  would  have  the  heart  to  do  harm  to  a  fli, 
much  less  to  stand  befor  such  a  tremendious  ticjer  and 
fire-eater  as  my  master.  But  I  see  putty  well,  after  a 
week,  from  his  manner  of  going  on — of  speakin  at 
master,  and  lookin  at  him,  and  olding  his  lips  tight 
when  Deuceace  came  into  the  room,  and  glaring  at  him 
with  his  i's,  that  he  hated  the  Honrabble  Algernon 
Percy. 

Shall  I  tell  you  why  '.  Because  my  Lady  Griffin 
hated  him ;  hated  him  wuss  than  pison,  or  the  devvle, 
or  even  wuss  than  her  daughter-in  law.  Praps  you 
phansy  that  the  letter  you  have  juss  red  was  honest; 
piaps  you  amadgin  that  the  sean  of  the  reading  of  the 
wil  came  on  by  mere  chans,  and  in  the  reglar  cors  of 
suckmstansies :  it  was  all  a  r/amc,I  tell  you — a  reglar 
trap;  and  that  extr< ulnar  clever  young  man,  my  master, 
as  neatly  put  his  foot  into  it,  as  ever  a  pocher  did  in 
fesnt  preserve. 


126  TIIK    rKLLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


The  shevalier  had  his  q  from  Lady  Griffin.  When 
Deuceace  went  off  the  feald,  back  came  De  l'Onre  to 
her  feet,  not  a  witt  less  tender  than  befor.  Por  fellow, 
por  fellow  !  he  really  loved  this  woman.  He  might  as 
well  have  foln  in  love  with  a  boreconstructor !  He  was 
so  blinded  and  beat  by  the  power  wich  she  had  got  ovet 
him,  that  if  she  told  him  black  was  white  he'd  beleave 
it,  or  if  she  ordered  him  to  commit  murder,  he'd  do  it 
— she  wanted  something  very  like  it,  I  can  tell  you. 

I've  already  said  how,  in  the  fust  part  of  their 
acquaintance,  master  used  to  laff  at  De  l'Orge's  bad 
Inglish,  and  funny  ways.  The  little  creature  had  a 
thowsnd  of  these ;  and  being  small,  and  a  Frenchman, 
master,  in  cors,  looked  on  him  with  that  good-humoured 
kind  of  contemp  which  a  good  Brittn  ot  always  to 
show.  He  rayther  treated  him  like  an  intelligent 
munky  than  a  man,  and  ordered  him  about  as  if  he'd 
bean  my  lady's  footman. 

All  this  munseer  took  in  very  good  part,  until  after 
the  quarl  betwigst  Master  and  Lady  Griffin ;  when  that 
lady  took  care  to  turn  the  tables.  Whenever  master 
and  miss  were  not  present  (as  I've  heard  the  servants 
say),  she  used  to  laff  at  the  shevalliay  fur  his  obeajance 
and  sivillatty  to  master.  "For  her  part,  she  wondered 
how  a  man  of  his  birth  could  act  a  servnt;  how  any 
man  could  submit  to  such  contemsheous  behaviour  from 
another;  and  then  she  told  him  how  Deuceace  was 
always  snearing  at  him  behind  his  back;  how,  in  fact, 
he  ought  to  hate  him  corjaly,  and  how  it  was  suttnly 
time  to  sht-w  his  Bperrit." 

Well,  the  poar  little  man  Deleaved  all  this  from  his 
hart,  and  was   angry  or  pleased,  gentle  or  quarlsum, 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  12*7 


igsactly  as  my  lady  liked.  There  got  to  be  frequint 
rows  betwigst  him  and  master;  sharp  words  flung  at 
each  other  across  the  dinner-table ;  dispewts  about  hand- 
ing ladies  their  smeling-botls,  or  seeing  them  to  their 
carridge ;  or  going  in  and  out  of  a  roam  fust,  or  any 
such  nonsince. 

"  For  Hevn's  sake,"  I  heerd  my  lady,  in  the 
midl  of  one  of  these  tiffs,  say,  pail,  and  the  tears  tremb- 
ling in  her  i's,  "do,  do  be  calm,  Mr.  Deuceace.  Mon- 
sieur de  l'Orge,  I  beseech  you  to  forgive  him.  You  are, 
both  of  you,  so  esteemed,  lov'd,  by  members  of  this 
family,  that  for  its  peace  as  well  as  your  own,  you  should 
forbear  to  quarrel." 

It  was  on  the  way  to  the  Sally  Mangy  that  this 
brangling  had  begun,  and  it  ended  jest  as  they  were 
seating  themselves.  I  shall  never  forgit  poar  little  De 
l'Orge's  eyes,  when  my  lady  said  "both  of  you."  He 
stair'd  at  my  lady  for  a  mornint,  turned  pail,  red,  look'd 
wild,  and  then,  going  round  to  master,  shook  his  hand 
as  if  he  would  have  wrung  it  off.  Mr.  Deuceace  only 
bowd  and  grind,  and  turned  away  quite  stately ;  miss 
heaved  a  loud  O  from  her  busm,  and  lookd  up  in  his 
face  with  an  igspreshn,  jest  as  if  she  could  have  eat  him 
up  with  love ;  and  the  little  shevalliay  sate  down  to  his 
soop-plate,  and  was  so  happy,  that  I'm  blest  if  he 
wasn't  crvinof!  He  thought  the  widdow  had  made  her 
declyration,  and  would  have  him ;  and  so  thought 
Deuceace,  who  lookd  at  her  for  some  time  mighty  bitter 
and  contempshus,  and  then  fell  a  talking  with  miss. 

Now,  though  master  didn't  choose  to  marry  for 
Lady  Griffin,  as  he  might  have  done,  he  yet  thought 
fit  to  be  very  angry  at  the  notion  of  her  marrying  any 


128  THE    VELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

"body  else;  and  so,  consquintly,  was  in  a  fewry  at  this 
confision  which  she  had  made  regarding  her  parshaleaty 
for  the  French  shevaleer. 

And  this  I've  perseaved  in  the  cors  of  my  expearants 
through  life,  that  when  you  vex  him,  a  roag's  no  longer 
a  roag ;  you  find  him  out  at  onst  when  he's  in  a  passion, 
for  he  shows,  as  it  ware,  his  cloven  foot  the  very  instnt 
you  tread  on  it.  At  least,  this  is  what  young  roags  do ; 
it  requires  very  cool  blood  and  long  practis  to  get  over 
this  pint,  and  not  to  show  your  pashn  when  you  feel  it, 
and  snarl  when  you  are  angry.  Old  Crabs  wouldn't 
do  it;  being  like  another  noblemin,  of  whom  I  heard 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  say,  while  waiting  behind  his 
graci's  chair,  that  if  you  were  kicking  him  from  behind, 
no  one  standing  before  him  wuld  know  it,  from  the 
bewtifle  smiling  igspreshn  of  his  face.  Young  Master 
hadn't  got  so  far  in  the  thief's  grammer,  and,  when  he 
was  angry,  showd  it.  And  it's  also  to  be  remarked  (a 
veiy  profownd  observatin  for  a  footmin,  but  we  have  i's 
though  we  do  wear  plush  britchis),  it's  to  be  remarked, 
I  say,  that  one  of  these  chaps  is  much  sooner  maid 
angry  than  another,  because  honest  men  yield  to  other 
people,  roags  never  do ;  honest  men  love  other  people, 
roags  only  themselves;  and  the  slightest  thing  which 
comes  in  the  way  of  thir  beloved  objects  sets  them 
f<  ■  wrious.  Master  hadn't  led  a  life  of  gambling,  swindling, 
and  every  kind  of  debotch  to  be  good  tempered  at  the 
end  of  it,  I  prommis  you. 

He  was  in  a  pashun,  and  when  he  was  in  a  pashn, 
a  more  insalent,  insuffrable,  overbearing  broot,  didn't 
live. 

This  was  the  very  pint  to  which  my  lady  wished  to 


MR.    DEUpEAOE.  129 


bring  him;  for  I  must  tell  you,  that  though  she  had 
been  trying  all  her  might  to  set  master  and  theshevalliay 
by  the  years,  she  had  suxcaded  only  so  far  as  to  make 
them  hate  each  profowndly;  but  sorcehow  or  other, 
the  2  cox  woudnt  fight. 

I  doan't  think  Deuceace  ever  suspected  any  game 
on  the  part  of  her  ladyship,  for  she  carried  it  on  bo 
admiralty,  that  the  quarls  which  daily  took  place 
betwigst  him  and  the  Frenchman  never  seemed  to  come 
from  her;  on  the  contry,  she  acted  as  the  reglar  pease- 
maker  between  them,  as  I've  just  shown  in  the  till 
which  took  place  at  the  door  of  the  Sally  Mangy. 
Besides,  the  2  young  men,  thoagh  reddy  enough  to 
snarl,  were  natrally  unwilling  to  cum  to  bloes.  I'll  tell 
you  why:  being  friends,  and  idle,  they  spent  their 
mornins  as  young  fashnabbles  genrally  do,  at  billiads, 
fensing,  riding,  pistle-shooting,  or  some  such  improoving 
study.  In  billiads,  master  beat  the  Frenchmn  hollow 
(and  had  won  a  pretious  sight  of  money  from  him,  but 
that's  neither  here  nor  there,  or,  as  the  French  say, 
ontry  noo) ;  at  pistle  shooting,  master  could  knock  down 
eight  immidges  out  of  ten,  and  De  l'Orge  seven  ;  and 
in  fensing,  the  Frenchman  could  pink  the  Honorabble 
Algernon  down  evry  one  of  his  weskit  buttns.  They'd 
each  of  them  been  out  more  than  onst,  for  every  French- 
man will  fight,  and  master  had  been  obleag'd  to  do  so 
in  the  cors  of  his  bisniss;  and  knowing  each  other's 
curridg,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  either  could  put  a 
hundrid  bolls  running  into  a  hat  at  30  yards,  they 
wairn't  very  willing  to  try  such  exparrymence  upon 
their  own  hats  with  their  own  heads  in  them.  So  you 
see  they  kep  quiet,  and  onlv  grould  at  each  other. 


130  THE    VELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

But  to-day,  Deuceace  was  in  one  of  his  thundering 
black  burners ;  and  when  in  this  way  he  woodnt  stop 
for  man  or  devvle.  I  said  Jiat  he  walked  away  from 
the  shevalliay,  who  bad  given  him  his  band  in  his  sud- 
den bust  of  of  joyfle  good-humour,  and  who,  I  do  bleave, 
would  have  bugd  a  she-bear,  so  very  happy  was  he. 
Master  walked  away  from  him  pale  and  hotty,  and, 
taking  bis  seat  at  table,  no  moor  mindid  the  brandish- 
ments  of  Miss  Griffin,  but  only  replied  to  them  with  a 
pshaw,  or  a  dam  at  one  of  us  servnts,  or  abuse  of  the 
soop,  or  the  wine  ;  cussing  and  swearing  like  a  tiooper, 
and  not  like  a  wel-bred  son  of  a  noble  Brittish  peer. 

"  Will  your  ladyship,"  says  he,  slivering  ofT  the 
wing  of  a  pully  ally  bashymall,  "  allow  me  to  help 
you  ?" 

"  I  thank  you  !  no  ;  but  I  will  trouble  Monsieur  de 
l'Orge."  And  towards  that  gnlmn  she  turned,  with  a 
most  tender  and  fasnating  smile. 

"  Your  ladyship  has  taken  a  very  sudden  admiration 
for  Mr.  de  l'Orfje's  carving.  You  used  to  like  mine 
once." 

"You  are  very  skilful  ;  but  to-day,  if  you  will  allow 
me,  I  will  partake  of  something  a  little  simpler." 

The  Frenchman  helped  ;  and,  being  so  happy,  in 
cors,  spilt  the  gravy.  A  great  blob  of  brown  sos  spurted 
on  to  master's  chick,  and  myandrewd  down  his  shert 
collar  and  virging-white  weskit. 

"  Confound  you  !"  says  he,  "  M.  de  l'Orge,  you  have 
done  this  on  purpose."  And  down  went  his  knife  and 
fork,  over  went  his  tumbler  of  wine,  a  deal  of  it  into 
poar  Miss  Griffinses  lap,  who  looked  fritened  and  ready 
to  cry. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  131 


My  lady  bust  into  a  fit  of  laffin,  peel  upon  peel,  as 
if  it  was  the  best  joak  in  the  world.  De  l'Orge  giggled 
and  grind  too.  "  Pardong"  says  he  ;  "  meal  pardong, 
mong  share  miinscer"*  And  he  looked  as  if  he  would 
have  done  it  again  for  a  penny. 

The  little  Frenchman  was  quite  in  exstasis ;  he  found 
himself  all  of  a  suddn  at  the  very  top  of  the  trea ;  and 
the  laff  for  onst  turned  against  his  rivle,  he  actialy  had 
the  ordassaty  to  propose  to  my  lady  in  English  to  take 
a  glass  of  wine. 

"  Veal  you,"  says  he,  in  his  jargin,  "  take  a  glas 
of  Mad  ere  viz  me,  mi  ladi?"  And  he  looked  round,  as 
if  he'd  igsackly  hit  the  English  manner  and  pronuncia- 
tion. 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  says  Lady  G.,  most 
graciously  nodding  at  him,  and  gazing  at  him  as  she 
drank  up  the  wine.  She'd  refused  master  befor,  and 
this  didn't  increase  his  good  humer. 

Well,  they  went  on,  master  snarling,  snapping,  and 
swearing,  making  himself,  I  must  confess,  as  much  of  a 
blaggard  as  any  I  ever  see ;  and  my  lady  employing 
her  time  betwigst  him  and  the  shevalliay,  doing  every 
think  to  irritate  master,  and  flatter  the  Frenchmn.  De- 
sert came  ;  and  by  this  time,  miss  was  stock-still  with 
fright,  the  chevaleer  half  tipsy  with  pleasure  and  grata- 
fied  vannaty.  My  lady  puffickly  raygent  with  smiles, 
and  master  bloo  with  rage. 

"  Mr.  Deuceace,"  says  my  lady,  in  a  most  winning 
voice,  after  a  little  chaffing  (in  which  she  only  worked 

*  In  the  long  dialogues,  we  have  generally  ventured  to 
change  the  peculiar  spelling  of  our  friend,  Mr.  Yellowplush. 


132  THE  VELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

him  up  moar  and  moar),  "  may  I  trouble  you  for  a  few 
of  those  grapes  ?  they  look  delicious." 

For  answer,  master  seas'd  hold  of  the  grayp  dish, 
and  sent  it  sliding  down  the  table  to  De  l'Orge ;  uspset- 
ting,  in  bis  way,  fruit-plates,  glasses,  dickanters,  and 
Heaven  knows  what. 

'•  Monsieur  de  1'Orge,"  says  he,  shouting  out  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  "  have  the  goodness  to  help  Lady  Grif- 
fin. She  wanted  my  grapes  long  ago,  and  has  found 
out  they  are  sour !" 

***** 

There  was  a  dead  paws  of  a  moment  or  so. 
***** 

"  Ah  /"  says  my  lady,  "  vous  osez  rriinsulter,  devant 
mes  gens,  dans  ma  propre  maison — c'est  par  trop  fort, 
monsieur."  And  up  she  got,  and  flung  out  of  the  room. 
Miss  followed  her,  screeching  out,  "  Mamma — for  God's 
sake — Lady  Griffin  !"  and  here  the  door  slammed  on 
the  pair. 

Her  ladyship  did  very  well  to  speak  French.  De 
r  Orge  would  not  have  understood  her  else  ;  as  it  was  he 
heard  quite  enough ;  and  as  the  door  clikt  too,  in  the 
presents  of  me,  and  Messeers  Mortimer  and  Fitzclar- 
ence,  the  family  footmen,  he  walks  round  to  my  master, 
and  hits  him  a  slap  on  the  face,  and  says,  "  Prends  ca, 
menteur  et  lache /"  Which  means,  "Take  that,  you 
liar  and  coward  !" — rayther  strong  igspreshns  for  one 
yeii linn  to  use  to  another. 

Master  staggered  back,  and  looked  bewildered ;  and 
then  he  gave  a  kind  of  a  scream,  and  then  he  made  a 
run   at  the   Frenchman,  and   then  me   and    Mortimer 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  133 


flung  ourselves  upon  him,  whilst  Fitzelarence  embraced 
the  shevalliay. 

"  A  clemain  /"  says  he,  clinching  his  little  fist,  and 
walking  away,  not  very  sorry  to  git  off. 

When  he  was  fairly  down  stares,  we  let  go  of  mas- 
ter ;  who  swallowed  a  goblit  of  water,  and  then  pawsing 
a  little,  and  pulling  out  his  pus,  he  presented  to  Messeers 
Mortimer  and  Fitzclarence  a  luydor  each.  "  I  will  give 
you  five  more  to-morrow,"  says  he,  "  if  you  will  prom- 
ise to  keep  this  secrit." 

And  then  he  walked  into  the  ladies.  "  If  yc  i 
knew,"  says  he,  going  up  to  Lady  Griffin,  and  speak- 
ing very  slow  (in  cors  we  were  all  at  the  keyhole),  "  the 
pain  I  have  endured  in  the  last  minute,  in  consequence 
of  the  rudeness  and  insolence  of  which  I  have  been 
guilty  to  your  ladyship,  you  would  think  my  own  re- 
morse was  punishment  sufficient,  and  would  grant  me 
pardon." 

My  lad)  bowed,  and  said  she  didn't  wish  for  ex- 
planations. Mr.  Deuceace  was  her  daughter's  guest, 
and  not  hers ;  but  she  certainly  would  never  demean 
herself  by  sitting  again  at  table  with  him.  And  so  say- 
ing, out  she  boltid  again. 

"  Oh  !  Algernon  !  Algernon  !"  says  miss,  in  teers, 
"  what  is  this  dreadful  mystery — these  fearful,  shocking 
quarrels  ?  Tell  me,  has  anything  happened  ?  Where, 
where  is  the  chevalier  ?" 

Master  smiled,  and  said,  "  Be  under  no  alarm,  my 
sweetest  Matilda.  De  l'Orge  did  not  understand  a  word 
of  the  dispute  ;  he  was  too  much  in  love  for  that.  He 
is  but  gone  away  for  half  an  hour,  I  believe ;  and  will 
return  to  coffee." 


134  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

I  knew  what  master's  game  was,  for  if  miss  had  got 
a  hinkling  of  the  quarrel  betwigst  him  and  the  French- 
man, we  should  have  had  her  screeming  at  the  Hotel 
Miribeu,  and  the  juice  and  all  to  pay.  He  only  stopt 
for  a  few  minuits,  and  cumfitted  her,  and  then  drove  off 
to  his  friend,  Captain  Bullseye,  of  the  Rifles  ;  with  whom 
I  spose,  he  talked  over  this  unplesnt  bisniss.  We  fownd, 
at  our  hotel,  a  note  from  De  l'Orge,  saying  where  his 
s^cknd  was  to  be  seen. 

Two  mornings  after  there  was  a  parrowgraf  in  Oal- 
lynanny's  Messinger,  which  I  hear  beg  leaf  to  trans- 
cribe : — 

"  Fearful  Duel. — Yesterday  morning,  at  six  o'clock,  a  meet- 
ing took  place,  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  between  the  Hon.  A. 
P.  D — ce — ce,  a  younger  son  of  the  Earl  of  Cr — bs,  and  the 

Chevalier  de  l'O .     The  chevalier  was  attended  by  Major 

de  M ,  of  the  Royal  Guard,  and  the  Hon.  Mr.  D by 

Captain  B — lis — ye,  of  the  British  Rifle  Corps.  As  far  as  we 
have  been  able  to  learn  the  particulars  of  this  deplorable  affair, 
the  dispute  originated  in  the  house  of  a  lovely  lady  (one  of  the 
most  brilliant  ornaments  of  our  embassy),  and  the  duel  took 
place  on  the  morning  ensuing. 

"The  chevalier  (the  challenged  party,  and  the  most  accom- 
plished amateur  swordsman  in  Paris)  waived  his  right  of  choos- 
ing  the  weapons,  and  the  combat  took  place  with  pistols. 

"  The  combatants  were  placed  at  forty  paces,  with  directions 
to  advance  to  a  barrier  which  separated  them  only  eight  paces. 

Each  was  furnished   with  two  pistols.     Monsieur  de  l'O 

fired  almost  immediately,  and  the  ball  took  effect  in  the  left 
wrist  of  his  antagonist,  who  dropped  the  pistol  which  he  held 
in  that  hand.  He  fired,  however,  directly  with  his  right,  and 
tlu:'  chevalier  fell  to  the  ground,  we  fear  mortally  wounded. 
A  ball  ha-  c-nt«T<-d  above  his  hip-joint,  and  there  is  very  little 
hope  that  he  '-an  recover. 


MR.    DEDCE  M  E.  13* 


"We  have  heard  thai  the  cause  of  this  desperate  duel  was 
a  blow,  which  the  chevalier  ventured  to  give  to  the  IIou.  Mr. 
D.  If  so,  there  is  some  reason  for  the  unusual  and  determined 
manner  in  which  the  duel  was  fought. 

"Mr.  Deu — a — e  returned  to  his  hotel;  whither  his  excel- 
lent father,  the  Right  Hon.  Earl  of  Cr — us,  immediately  has- 
tened on  hearing  of  the  sad  news,  and  is  nc  W  bestowing  on 
his  son  the  most  affectionate  parental  attention.  The  news 
only  reached  his  lordship  yesterday  at  noon,  while  at  break- 
fast with  his  excellency,  Lord  Bobtail,  our  ambassador.  The 
noble  earl  fainted  on  receiving  the  intelligence;  but,  in  spite 
of  the  shock  to  his  own  nerves  and  health,  persisted  in  passing 
last  night  by  the  couch  of  his  son." 

And  so  he  did.  "  This  is  a  sad  business,  Charles," 
says  ray  lord  to  me,  after  seeing  his  son,  and  settling 
himself  down  in  our  salong.  "  Have  you  any  segars 
in  the  house  ?  And,  hark  ye,  send  me  up  a  bottle  of 
wine  and  some  luncheon.  I  can  certainly  not  leave  the 
neighbourhood  of  my  dear  boy." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   COXSQUDJSIES. 

The  shevalliay  did  not  die,  for  the  ball  came  out  of  it's 
own  accord,  in  the  midst  of  a  violent  fever  and  inflam- 
ayshn  which  was  brot  on  by  the  wound.  He  was  kept 
in  bed  for  6  weeks  though,  and  did  not  recover  for  a 
long  time  after. 

As  for  master,  his  lot,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  was  wuss 
than  that  of  his  advisary.  Inflammation  came  on  too  ; 
and,  to  make  an  ugly  story  short,  they  were  obliged  to 
take  off  his  hand  at  the  risk 


136  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


He  bore  it,  in  cors,  like  a  Trojin,  and  in  a  month  he 
too  was  well,  and  his  wound  heel'd ;  but  I  never  see  a 
man  look  so  like  a  devvle  as  he  used  sometimes,  when 
he  looked  down  at  the  stump  ! 

To  be  sure,  in  Miss  Griffinses  eyes,  this  only  indeer- 
ed  him  the  mor.  She  sent  twenty  noats  a-day  to 
ask  for  him,  calling  him  her  beloved,  her  unfortnat,  her 
hero,  her  wictim,  and  I  dono  what.  I've  kep  some  of 
the  noats  as  I  tell  you,  and  curiously  sentimentle  they 
are,  beating  the  sorrows  of  Mac  Whirter  all  to  not  h  ink. 

Old  Crabs  used  to  come  offen,  and  consumed  a 
power  of  wine  and  seagars  at  our  house.  I  bleave  he 
was  at  Paris  because  there  was  an  exycution  in  his  own 
house  in  England  ;  and  his  son  was  a  sure  find  (as  they 
say)  during  his  illness,  and  couldn't  deny  himself  to  the 
old  genlmn.  His  eveninx  my  lord  spent  reglar  at 
Lady  Griffin's,  where,  as  master  was  ill,  I  didn't  go  any 
more  now,  and  where  the  shevalier  wasn't  there  to  dis- 
turb him. 

"  You  see  how  that  woman  hates  you,  Deuceace," 
says  my  lord,  one  day,  in  a  fit  of  cander,  after  they  had 
been  talking  about  Lady  Griffin  :  "  she  has  not  done  with 
you  yet,  I  tell  you  fairly." 

"  Curse  her,"  says  master,  in  a  fury,  lifting  up  his 
maim'd  arm — "  curse  her,  but  I  will  be  even  with  her 
one  day.  I  am  sure  of  Matilda :  I  took  care  to  put 
that  beyond  the  reach  of  a  failure.  The  girl  must 
marry  me  for  her  own  sake." 

"  For  her  own  sake  !  O  ho  !  Good,  good  !"  My 
lord  lifted  his  i's,  and  said,  gravely,  "  I  understand,  my 
dear  l>oy  :  it  is  an  excellent  plan." 

"  Well,"  says  master,  grinning    fearcely  and  know- 


MR.     DKCOKACK.  137 


ingly  at  his  exlent  old  father,  "  as  the  girl  is  safe,  what 
harm  can  I  fear  from  the  fiend  of  a  stepmother  ?" 

My  lord  only  gev  a  long  whizzle,  and,  soon  after, 
taking  up  his  hat,  walked  off.  I  saw  him  sawnter  down 
the  Plas  Vandome,  and  go  in  quite  calmly  to  the  old  door 
of  Lady  Griffinses  hotel.  Bless  his  old  face  !  such  a  puf- 
fickly  good-natured,  kind  hearted,  merry,  selfish  old 
scoundril,  I  never  shall  see  again. 

His  lordship  was  quite  right  in  saying  to  master 
that  "Lady  Griffin  hadn't  done  with  him."  No  moar 
she  had.  But  she  never  would  have  thought  of  the 
nex  game  she  was  going  to  play,  if  somebody  hadn't  put 
her  up  to  it.  Who  did  ?  If  you  red  the  above  pas- 
sidge,  and  saw  how  a  venrabble  old  genlmn  took  his 
hat,  and  sauntered  down  the  Plas  Vandome  (looking 
hard  and  kind  at  all  the  nussary-maids — buns  they  call 
them  in  France — in  the  way),  I  leave  you  to  guess  who 
was  the  author  of  the  nex  skeam  :  a  woman,  suttnly, 
never  would  have  piteht  on  it. 

In  the  fuss  payper  which  I  wrote  concerning  Mr. 
Deuceace's  adventers,  and  his  kind  behayviour  to  Mes- 
seers  Dawkins  and  Blewitt,  I  had  the  honor  of  laying 
before  the  public  a  skidewl  of  my  masters  detts,  in  witch 
was  the  following  itim  : 

"Bills  of  xchange  and  I.O.U's.,  4963J.  Os.  Od. 

The  I.O.U.se  were  trifling,  say  a  thowsnd  pound. 
The  bills  amountid  to  four  thowsnd  moar. 

Now,  the  lor  is  in  France,  that  if  a  genlmn  gives 
these  in  England,  and  a  French  genlmn  gits  them  in 
any  way,  lie  can  pursew  the  Englishman  who  has  drawn 


138  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

them,  even  though  he  should  he  in  France.  Master  did 
not  know  this  fact — laboring  under  a  very  common  mis- 
teak,  that,  when  oust  out  of  England,  he  might  wissle 
at  all  the  debts  he  left  behind  him. 

My  Lady  Griffin  sent  over  to  her  slissators  in 
London,  who  made  arrangemints  with  the  persons  who 
possest  the  fine  collection  of  ortografs  on  stampt  paper 
which  master  had  left  behind  him  ;  and  they  were  glad 
enuff  to  take  any  oppertunity  of  getting  back  their 
money. 

One  fine  morning,  as  I  was  looking  about  in  the 
court-yard  of  our  hotel,  talking  to  the  servant  gals,  as 
was  my  reglar  custom,  in  order  to  improve  myself  in 
the  French  languidge,  one  of  them  comes  up  to  me  and 
says,  "Tenez,  Monsieur  Charles,  down  below  in  the 
office  there  is  a  bailiff,  with  a  couple  of  gendarmes,  who 
is  asking  for  your  master — a-t-il  des  dettes  par  liasardV 

I  was  struck  all  of  a  heap — the  truth  flasht  on  my 
mind's  hi.  "  Toinette,"  says  I,  for  that  was  the  gal's 
name — "  Toinette,"  says  I,  giving  her  a  kiss,  "  keep 
them  for  two  minnits,  as  you  valyou  my  affeckshn  ;"  and 
then  I  gave  her  another  kiss,  and  ran  up  stares  to  our 
chambers.  Master  had  now  pretty  well  recovered  of 
his  wound,  and  was  aloud  to  drive  abowt ;  it  was  lucky 
for  him  that  he  had  the  strength  to  move.  "  Sir,  sir," 
says  I,  "  the  bailiffs  are  after  you,  and  you  must  run  for 
your  life." 

"Bailiffs,"  says  he:  "nonsense!  I  don't,  thank 
Heaven,  owe  a  shilling  to  any  man." 

"Si 1 1 If.  ^ir,"  says  I,  forgetting  my  respeck  ;  "don't 
you  owe  money  in  England  ?  I  tell  you  the  bailiffs 
are  here,  and  will  be  on  you  in  a  moment." 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  139 


As  I  spoke,  cling  cling,  ling  ling,  goes  the  bell  of 
the  antv-shamber,  and  there  they  were  sure  enough  ! 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Quick  as  litening,  I  throws 
off  my  livry  coat,  claps  my  goold  lace  hat  on  master's 
head,  and  makes  him  put  on  my  livry.  Then  I  wraps 
nivsi'lf  up  in  his  dressing-gown,  and  lolling  down  on 
the  sofa,  bids  him  open  the  dor 

There  they  were — the  bailiff — two  jondarms  with 
him — Toinette,  and  an  old  waiter.  When  Toinette  sees 
master,  she  smiles,  and  says:  "  Dis  done,  Charles !  ou 
est,  done,  ton  maitre  ?  Chez  lui,  n'est-ce  pas  ?  C'est 
le  jeune  homme  a  monsieur,"  says  she,  curtsying  to  the 
bailiff. 

The  old  waiter  was  just  a  going  to  blurt  out,  "  Mais 
ce  n'est  pas  !"  when  Toinette  stops  him,  and  says,  "  Lais- 
sez  done  passer  ces  messieurs,  vieux  bete ;"  and  in  they 
walk,  the  2  jon  d'arms  taking  their  post  in  the  hall. 

Master  throws  open  the  salong  doar  very  gravely, 
and,  touching  my  hat,  says,  "Have  you  any  orders 
about  the  cab,  sir  ?" 

"  Why,  no,  Chawls,"  says  I ;  "I  shan't  drive  out 
to-day." 

The  old  bailiff  grinned,  for  he  understood  English 
(having  had  plenty  of  English  customers),  and  says  in 
French,  as  master  goes  out,  "  I  think,  sir,  you  had  better 
let  your  servant  get  a  coach,  for  I  am  under  the  painful 
necessity  of  arresting  you,  au  nom  de  la  loi,  for  the  sum 
of  ninety-eight  thousand  seven  hundred  francs,  owed  by 
you  to  the  Sieur  Jacques  Francois  Lebrun,  of  Paris ;" 
and  he  pulls  out  a  number  of  bills,  with  master's  accept- 
ances on  them  sure  enough. 

"Take  a  chair,  sir,"  savs  I ;  and  down  he  sits ;  and 


140  THE  YELLOWI'LUSU  PAPERS. 

I  began  to  chaff  him,  as  well  as  I  could,  about  the 
weather,  my  illness,  ray  sad  axdent,  having  lost  one 
of  my  hands,  which  was  stuck  into  my  busm,  and  so  on. 

At  last,  after  a  minnit  or  two,  I  could  contane  no 
longer,  and  bust  out  in  a  horse  laff. 

The  old  fellow  turned  quite  pail,  and  began  to  sus- 
pect somethink.  "  Hola  !"  says  he ;  "  gendarme- '.  a 
moi !  a  moi !  Je  suis  floue,  vole,"  which  means,  in  Eng- 
lish, that  he  was  retdar  sold. 

The  jondarmes  jumped  into  the  room,  and  so  did 
Toinette  and  the  waiter.  Grasefly  rising  from  my  arm- 
chare,  I  took  my  hand  from  my  dressing-gownd,  and, 
flinging  it  open,  stuck  up  on  the  chair  one  of  the  neatest 
legs  ever  seen. 

I  then  pinted  myjestickly — to  what  do  you  think  \ 
— to  my  plush  tites  !  those  sellabrated  inigspressablea 
which  have  rendered  me  faymous  in  Yourope. 

Taking  the  hint,  the  jondarmes  and  the  servnts  rord 
out  hitting  ;  and  so  did  Charles  Yellowplush,  Esquire,  I 
can  tell  you.  Old  Grippard,  the  bailiff,  looked  as  if  he 
would  feint  in  his  chare. 

I  heard  a  kab  galloping  like  mad  out  of  the  hotel- 
gate,  and  knew  then  that  my  master  was  safe. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  END  OF  MR.  DEDCEACe's  HISTORY.       LIMBO. 

My  tail  is  droring  rabidly  to  a  close :  my  suvvice  with 
Mr.  Deuceace  didn't  continyou  very  long  after  the  last 
chapter,  in  which  1  described  my  admiral  strattyjam, 
and  my  singlar  self-devocean.     There's  very  few  servnts, 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  141 


I  can  tell  you,  who'd  have  thought  of  such  a  contri- 
vance, and  very  few  moar  would  have  eggsycuted  it 
when  thought  of. 

But,  after  all,  beyond  the  trifling  advantich  to  my- 
self in  selling  master's  roab  de  sham,  which  you,  gentle 
reader,  may  remember  I  woar,  and  in  dixcovering  a 
fipun  note  in  one  of  the  pockets, — beyond  this,  I  say, 
there  was  to  poar  master  very  little  advantitch  in  what 
had  been  don,'.  It's  true  he  had  escaped.  Very  good. 
But  Frana  is  not  like  Great  Britttn ;  a  man  in  a  livry 
coat,  with  1  arm,  is  pretty  easly  known,  and  caught, 
too,  as  I  can  tell  you. 

Such  was  the  case  with  master.  He  coodn  leave 
Paris,  moarover,  if  he  would.  What  was  to  become,  in 
that  case,  of  his  bride — his  unchbacked  hairis?  He 
know  that  young  lady's  temprimong  (as  the  Parishers 
say)  too  well  to  let  her  long  out  of  his  site.  She  had 
nine  thousand  a-yer.  She'd  been  in  love  a  duzn  times 
befor,  and  mite  be  agfin.  The  Honrabble  Algernon 
Deuceace  was  a  little  too  wide  awake  to  trust  much  to 
the  constnsy  of  so  very  inflammable  a  young  creacher. 
Heavn  bless  us,  it  was  a  marycle  she  wasn't  earlier 
married !  I  do  bleave  (from  suttn  seans  that  past  be- 
twigst  us)  that  she'd  have  married  me,  if  she  hadn't 
been  sejuiced  by  the  supearor  rank  and  indianuitv  of 
the  genlmn  in  whose  survace  I  was. 

Well,  to  use  a  cummin  igspreshn,  the  beaks  were 
after  him.  How  was  he  to  manitch  ?  He  coodn  get 
away  from  his  debts,  and  he  wooden  quit  the  fareobjict 
of  his  affeekshns.  He  was  ableejd,  then,  as  the  French 
say,  to  lie  perdew, — going  out  at  night,  like  a  howl  out 
of  a  hivy-bush,  and   returning  in  the  davtime  to  his 


142  THE    YELLOW  II. t>H     PAPERS. 

roast.  For  its  a  maxum  in  France  (and  I  wood  it  were 
followed  in  Ingland),  that  after  dark  no  man  is  lible  for 
his  detts;  and  in  any  of  the  royal  gardens — the  Twil- 
laries,  the  Pally  Roil,  or  the  Lucksimbug,  for  example 
— a  man  may  wander  from  sunrise  to  evening,  and  hear 
nothing  of  the  ojus  dunns  :  they  an't  admitted  into  these 
places  of  public  enjyment  and  rondyvoo  any  more  than 
dogs ;  the  centuries  at  the  garden  gate  having  orders  to 
shuit  all  such. 

Master,  then,  was  in  this  uncom/rable  situation — 
neither  liking  to  go  nor  to  stay  ;  peeping  out  at  nights 
to  have  an  interview  with  his  miss  ;  ableagd  to  shuffle 
off  her  repeated  questions  as  to  the  reason  of  all  this 
disgeise,  and  to  talk  of  his  two  thowsnd  a-year,  jest  as 
if  he  had  it,  and  didn't  owe  a  shilling  in  the  world. 

Of  course,  now,  he  began  to  grow  mighty  eager  for 
the  marritch. 

He  roat  as  many  noats  as  she  had  done  befor ;  swoar 
aginsl  delay  and  cerymony  ;  talked  of  the  pleasures  of 
Ihming,  the  ardship  that  the  ardor  of  two  arts  should 
be  allowed  to  igspire,  the  folly  of  waiting  for  the  con- 
sent of  Lady  Griffin.  She  was  but  a  step-mother,  and 
an  unkind  one.  Miss  was  (he  said)  a  major,  might 
marry  whom  she  liked  ;  and  suttnly  had  paid  Lady  G. 
quite  as  much  attention  as  she  ought,  by  paying  her 
the  compliment  to  ask  her  at  all. 

And  so  they  went  on.  The  curious  thing  was,  that 
when  master  was  pressed  about  his  cause  for  not  coming 
out  till  night-time,  he  was  misterus;  and  Miss  Griffin, 
when  asked  why  she  wooden  marry,  igsprest,  or  rather, 
didn't  igspress,  a  simlar  secrasy.     Wasn't  it  hard  ?   the 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  143 


cup  seemed  to  be  at  the  lip  of  both  of  'em,  and  yet 
somehow,  they  could  not  manitcb  to  take  a  drink. 

But  one  morning,  in  reply  to  a  most  desprat  epistol 
wrote  by  my  master  over  night,  Deuceace,  delighted, 
gits  an  answer  from  his  soal's  beluffd,  which  ran  thus : 

"  Miss  Griffin  to  the  Hon.  A.  P.  Deuceace. 

•'  Dearest, — You  say  you  would  share  a  cottage 
with  me  ;  there  is  no  need,  luckily,  for  that  !  You 
plead  the  sad  sinking  of  your  spirits  at  our  delayed 
union.  Beloved,  do  you  think  my  heart  rejoices  at  our 
separation  \  You  bid  me  disregard  the  refusal  of  Lady 
Griffin,  and  tell  me  that  I  owe  her  no  further  duty. 

"  Adored  Algernon  !  I  can  refuse  you  no  more.  I 
was  willing  not  to  lose  a  single  chance  of  reconciliation 
with  this  unnatural  stepmother.  Respect  for  the  me- 
mory of  my  sainted  father  bid  me  do  all  in  my  power  to 
gain  her  consent  to  my  union  with  you ;  nay,  shall  I 
own  it,  prudence  dictated  the  measure ;  for  to  whom 
should  she  leave  the  share  of  money  accorded  to  her 
by  my  fathers  will  but  to  my  father's  child. 

"  But  there  are  bounds  beyond  which  no  forbear- 
ance can  go ;  and,  thank  Heaven,  we  have  no  need  of 
looking  to  Lady  Griffin  for  sordid  wealth :  we  have  a 
competency  without  her.    Is  it  not  so,  dearest  Algernon  ? 

"  Be  it  as  you  wish,  then,  dearest,  bravest,  and  best. 
Your  poor  Matilda  has  yielded  to  you  her  heart  long  ago  ; 
she  has  no  longer  need  to  keep  back  her  name.  Name 
the  hour,  and  I  will  delay  no  more ;  but  seek  for  re- 
fuge in  your  arms  from  the  contumely  and  insult  which 
meet  me  ever  here. 

"  Matilha. 


144  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  P.  S.  O,  Algernon  !  if  you  did  but  know  what  a 
noble  part  your  dear  father  has  acted  throughout,  in 
doing  his  best  endeavours  to  further  our  plans,  and  to 
soften  Lady  Griffin !  It  is  not  his  fault  that  she  is  inex- 
orable as  she  is.  I  send  you  a  note  sent  by  her  to 
Lord  Crabs  ;  we  will  laugh  at  it  soon,  n'est  ce  pas  V 


11. 


"  My  Lord, — In  reply  to  your  demand  for  Miss 
Griffin's  hand,  in  favour  of  your  son,  Mr.  Algernon 
Deuceace,  I  can  only  repeat  what  I  before  have  been 
under  the  necessity  of  stating  to  you, — that  I  do  not 
believe  a  union  with  a  person  of  Mr.  1  )euceace's  charac- 
ter would  conduce  to  my  step-daughter's  happiness,  and 
therefore  refuse  my  consent.  I  will  beg  you  to  commu- 
nicate the  contents  of  this  note  to  Mr.  Deuceace ;  and 
implore  you  no  more  to  touch  upon  a  subject  which 
3'ou  must  be  aware  is  deeply  painful  to  me. 

"  T  remain  your  lordship's  most  humble  servant, 

L.  E.  Griffin. 
"  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Crabs." 

"Hang  her  ladyship  !"  says  my  master,  "  what  care  I 
for  it?"  As  for  the  old  lord  who'd  bean  so  afishous  in 
his  kindniss  and  advice,  master  recknsiled  that  pretty 
well,  with  thinking  that  his  lordship  knew  he  was  going 
to  marry  ten  thousand  a-year,  and  igspected  to  get 
some  share  of  it ;  for  he  roat  back  the  following  letter 
to  his  father,  as  well  as  a  flaming  one  to  miss: 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  father,  for  your   kindness  in 


MK.    DEUCEACE.  145 


that  awkward  business.  You  know  how  painfully  I  am 
situated  just  now,  and  can  pretty  well  guess  both  tlie 
causes  cf  my  disquiet.  A  marriage  with  my  beloved 
Matilda  will  make  me  the  happiest  of  men.  The  dear 
girl  consents,  and  laughs  at  the  foolish  pretensions  of 
her  mother-in-law.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  wonder 
she  yielded  to  them  so  long.  Carry  your  kindness  a 
step  further,  and  find  for  us  a  parson,  a  licence,  and 
make  us  two  into  one.  We  are  both  major,  you  know  ; 
so  that  the  ceremony  of  a  guardian's  consent  is  unneces- 
saiy. 

"  Your  affectionate 

"  Algernon  Deuceace. 
"  How  I  regret  that  difference  between  us  some  time 
back  !  Matters  are  changed  now,  and  sha  11  be  more  still 
after  the  marriage? 

I  knew  what  my  master  meant, — that  he  would 
give  the  the  old  lord  the  money  after  he  was  married ; 
and  as  it  was  probble  that  miss  would  see  the  letter  he 
roat,  he  made  it  such  as  not  to  let  her  see  two  clearly  in 
to  his  presnt  uncomfrable  situation. 

I  took  this  letter  along  with  the  tender  one  for 
miss,  reading  both  of  'em,  in  course,  by  the  way.  Miss, 
on  getting  hers,  gave  an  inegspressable  look  with  the 
white  of  her  i's,  kist  the  letter,  and  prest  it  to  her  busm. 
Lord  Crabs  read  his  quite  calm,  and  then  they  fell  a 
talking  together ;  and  told  me  to  wait  awhile,  and  I 
should  git  an  anser. 

After  a  deal  of  counseltation,  my  lord  brought  out  a 
card,  and  there  was  simply  written  on  it, 


146  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


To-morrow,  at  the  Ambassador  s, 
at  Twelve. 


"  Carry  that  back  to  your  master,  Chawls,"  says  he, 
"  and  bid  him  not  to  fail." 

You  may  be  sure  I  stept  back  to  him  pretty  quick, 
and  save  him  the  card  and  the  messinor-e.  Master  look- 
ed  sattasfied  with  both ;  but  suttnly  not  over  happy ; 
no  man  is  the  day  before  his  marridge ;  much  more 
his  marridge  with  a  hump-back,  Harriss  though  she  be. 

Well,  as  he  was  a  going  to  depart  this  bachelor  life,  he 
did  what  every  man  in  such  suckmstansies  ought  to  do  ; 
he  made  his  will, — that  is,  he  made  a  dispasition  of  his 
property,  and  wrote  letters  to  his  creditors  telling  them 
of  his  lucky  chance;  and  that  after  his  marriage  he 
would  sutnly  pay  them  every  stiver.  Before,  they  must 
know  his  povvaty  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  paymint 
was  out  of  the  question. 

To  do  him  justas,  he  seam'd  to  be  inclined  to  do 
the  thing  that  was  right,  now  that  it  didn't  put  him 
to  any  inkinvenients  to  do  so. 

"  Chawls,"  says  he,  handing  me  over  a  tenpun  note, 
"  Here's  your  wagis,  and  thank  you  for  getting  me  out 
of  the  scrape  with  the  bailiffs :  when  you  are  married, 
you  shall  be  my  valet  out  of  liv'ry,  and  I'll  treble  your 
salary." 

His  vallit !  praps  his  butler  !  Yes,  thought  I,  here's 
a  chance — a  vallit  to  ten  thousand  a-year.  Nothing 
to  do  but  to  shave  him,  and  read  his  notes,  and  let  my 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  147 


wiskers  grow ;  to  dress  in  spick  and  span  black,  and  a 
clean  shut  per  day  ;  muffings  every  night  in  the  house- 
keeper's room  ;  the  pick  of  the  gals  in  the  servnts'  hall  ; 
a  chap  to  clean  my  boots  for  me,  and  my  master's  oppra 
bone  reglar  once  a-week.  /knew  what  a  vallit  was  as 
well  as  any  genlmn  in  service ;  and  this  I  can  tell  you, 
he's  genrally  a  hapier,  idler,  hundsomer,  mor  genlmnly 
man  than  his  master.  He  has  more  money  to  spend, 
for  genlmn  will  leave  their  silver  in  their  weskit  pock- 
ets ;  more  suxess  among  the  gals;  as  good  dinners, 
and  as  good  wine — that  is,  if  he's  friends  with  the  but- 
ler, and  friends  in  corse  they  will  be  if  they  know  which 
way  their  interest  lies. 

But  these  are  onlycassels  in  the  air,  what  the  French 
call  shutter  d^Espang.  It  wasn't  roat  in  the  book  of 
fate  that  I  was  to  be  Mr.  Deuceace's  vallit. 

Days  will  pass  at  last — even  days  befor  a  wedding, 
(the  longist  and  unpleasantist  day  in  the  whole  of  a 
man's  life,  I  can  tell  you,  excep,  may  be,  the  day  before 
his  hanging)  ;  and  at  length  Aroarer  dawned  on  the 
suspicious  morning  which  was  to  unite  in  the  bonds  of 
Hyrning  the  Honrabble  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace, 
Exquire,  and  Miss  Matilda  Griffin.  My  master's  ward- 
robe wasn't  so  rich  as  it  had  been  ;  for  he'd  left  the 
whole  of  his  nicknax  and  trumpry  of  dressing  cases  and 
rob  dy  shams,  his  bewtifle  museum  of  varnished  boots, 
his  enrous  colleckshn  of  Stulz  and  Staub  coats  when  ho 
had  been  ableagvd  to  quit  so  sudnly  our  pore  dear 
lodginx  at  the  Hotel  Mirabew  ;  and,  being  incog  at  a 
friend's  house,  had  contentid  himself  with  ordringa  eoople 
of  shoots  of  cloves  from  a  common  tailor,  with  a  suffi- 
shnt  quantaty  of  linning. 


148  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

Well,  he  put  on  the  best  of  his  coats — a  blue ;  and 
I  thought  it  my  duty  to  ask  him  whether  he'd  want 
his  frock  again ;  and  he  was  good  natured  and  said, 
"  Take  it  and  be  hanged  to  you."  And  half-past  eleven 
o'clock  came,  and  I  was  sent  to  look  out  at  the  door,  if 
there  were  any  suspicious  charicters  (a  precious  good 
nose  I  have  to  find  a  bailiff  out,  I  can  tell  you,  and  an 
i  which  will  almost  see  one  round  a  corner)  ;  and  pre- 
snly  a  very  modest  green  glass-coach  droave  up,  and  in 
master  stept.  I  didn't,  in  corse,  appear  on  the  box  ; 
because,  being  known,  my  appearints  might  have  com- 
promised master.  But  I  took  a  short  cut,  and  walked 
as  quick  as  posbil  down  to  the  Rue  de  Foburg  St. 
Honore,  where  his  exlnsy  the  English  ambasdor  lives, 
and  where  marridges    are  always  performed  betwigst 

English  folk  at  Paris. 

***** 

There  is,  almost  nex  door  to  the  ambasdor's  hotel, 
another  hotel,  of  that  lo  kind  which  the  French  call  cab- 
byrays,  or  wine  houses  ;  and  jest  as  master's  green  glass- 
coach  pulled  up,  another  coach  drove  off,  out  of  which 
came  two  ladies,  whom  I  knew  pretty  well, — suffiz,  that 
one  had  a  humpback,  and  the  ingenious  reader  well 
knew  why  she  came  there  ;  the  other  was  poor  Miss 
Kicksey,  who  came  see  her  turned  off. 

Well,  masters  glass-coach  droav  up  jest  as  I  got  with- 
in a  few  yards  of  the  door ;  our  carridge,  I  say,  droav  up, 
and  stopt.  Down  gits  coachmin  to  open  the  door,  and 
comes  I  to  give  Mr.  Deuceace  an  arm,  when — out  of 
the  cabaray  shoot  four  fellows,  and  draw  up  betwigst  the 
coach  and  emba^sy-doar ;  two  other  chaps  go  to  the 
other  doar  of  tin-  carridge,  and,  opening  it,  one  says — 


MR.    DKUCEACE.  1  I'.t 


"Rendezvous,  M.  Deuceace  !  Je  vous  arreteau  nam  de 
la  loif"  (which  means,  "  Get  out  of  that,  Mr.  D. ;  you 
are  nabbed,  and  no  mistake)."  Master  turned  gashly 
pail,  and  sprung  to  the  other  side  of  the  coach,  as  if  a 
serpint  had  stung  him.  He  flung  open  the  door,  and 
was  for  making  off  that  way  ;  but  he  saw  the  four  chaps 
standing  betwigst  libbarty  and  him.  He  slams  down  the 
front  window,  and  screams  out,  "Fouettez,  cocker  /" 
(which  means,  "  Go  it,  coachmin !")  in  a  despert  loud 
voice;  but  coachmin  wooden  go  it,  and  besides,  was  off 
his  box. 

The  long  and  short  of  the  matter  was,  that  jest  as  I 
came  up  to  the  door  two  of  the  bums  jumped  into  the 
Carridge.  I  saw  all ;  I  knew  my  duty,  and  so  very 
mornfly  I  got  up  behind. 

"  Tiens"  says  one  of  the  chaps  in  the  street ;  "  Jest 
ce  drole  qui  nous  a  hue1  V autre  jour."  I  knew  'em,  but 
was  too  melumcolly  to  smile. 

"  Oil  irons-nous  done  ?"  says  coachmin  to  the  genlmn 
who  had  got  inside. 

A  deepwoice  from  the  intearor  !i<  nted  out,  in  reply 
to  the  coachmin,  "a  saixtk  pki.u.;  .  !"" 

And  now,  praps,  I  otto  dixcribe  to  you  the  humours 
of  the  prizn  of  Sainte  Pelagie,  which  is  the  French  for 
Fleat,  or  Queen's  Benteh ;  but  on  this  subject  I'm  ra- 
ther shy  of  writing,  partly  because  the  admiral  Boz  has, 
in  the  history  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  made  such  a  dixcripshun 
of  a  prizn,  that  mine  wooden  read  very  amyousingly  af- 
terwids  ;  and,  also,  because,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  didn't 
stay  long  in  it,  being  not  in  a  burner  to  waist  my  igsist- 


150  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

ance  by  passing  away  the  ears  of  my  youth  in  such  a 
dull  place. 

My  fust  errint  now  was,  as  you  may  phansy,  to 
carry  a  noat  from  master  to  his  destined  bride.  The 
poar  tbing  was  sadly  taken  aback,  as  I  can  tell  you, 
when  she  found,  after  remaining  two  hours  at  the  Em- 
bassy, that  her  husband  didn't  make  his  appearance. 
And  so,  after  staying  on  and  on,  and  yet  seeing  no  hus- 
band, she  was  forsed  at  last  to  trudge  dishconslit  home, 
where  1  was  already  waiting  for  her  with  a  letter  from 
my  master. 

There  was  no  use  now  denying  the  fact  of  his  arrest, 
and  so  he  confest  it  at  onst ;  but  he  made  a  cock-and- 
bull  story  of  treachery  of  a  friend,  infimous  fodgery,  and 
Heaven  knows  what.  However,  it  didn't  matter  much  ; 
if  he  had  told  her  that  he  had  been  betrayed  by  the  man 
in  the  moon,  she  would  have  bleavd  him. 

Lady  Griffin  never  used  to  appear  now  at  any  of  my 
visits.  She  kep  one  drawing-room,  and  Miss  dined  and 
lived  alone  in  another;  they  quarld  so  much  that  praps 
it  was  best  they  should  live  apart :  only  my  Lord  Crabs 
used  to  see  both,  comforting  each  with  that  winning  and 
innsnt  way  he  had.  He  came  in  as  Miss,  in  tears,  was 
lisning  to  my  account  of  master's  seazure,  and  hopin 
that  the  prisn  wasn't  a  horrid  place,  with  a  nasty  horrid 
dunjeon,  and  a  dreadfle  jailer,  and  nasty  horrid  bread 
and  water.  Law  bless  us !  she  had  borrod  her  ideers 
from  the  novvles  she  had  been  reading ! 

"  O  my  lord,  my  lord,"  says  she,  "  have  you  heard 
this  fatal  story  ?" 

"Dearest,  Matilda,  what?  For  Heaven's  sake,  you 
alarm  me !     What — yes — no — is  it — no,  it  cant'  be ! 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  151 


Speak !"  says  my  lord,  seizing  me  by  the  choler  of  my 
coat,  "  what  has  happened  to  my  boy  ?" 

"  Please  you,  my  lord,"  says  I,  "  he's  at  this  moment 
in  prisn,  no  wuss, — having  been  incarserated  about  two 
hours  ago." 

"  Tn  prison  !  Algernon  in  prison !  'tis  impossible  ! 
Imprisoned,  for  what  sum?  Mention  it,  and  I  will  pay 
to  the  utmost  farthing  in  my  power." 

"  I'm  sure  your  lordship  is  very  kind,"  says  I  (reck- 
lecting  the  sean  betwigst  him  and  master,  whom  he 
wanted  to  diddil  out  of  a  thowsand  lb.)  ;  "  and  you'll  be 
happy  to  hear  he's  only  in  for  a  trifle.  Five  thousand 
pound  is,  I  think,  pretty  near  the  mark." 

"  Five  thousand  pounds  ! — confusion  !"  says  my  lord, 
clasping  his  hands,  and  looking  up  to  heaven,  "  and  I 
have  not  five  hundred  !  Dearest  Matilda,  how  shall  we 
help  him  ?" 

"  Alas,  my  lord,  I  have  but  three  guineas,  and  you 
know  how  Lady  Griffin  has  the " 

"  Yes,  my  sweet  child,  I  know  what  you  would  say ; 
but  be  of  good  cheer — Algernon,  you  know,  has  ample 
funds  of  his  own." 

Thinking  my  lord  meant  Dawkins's  five  thousand, 
of  which,  to  be  sure,  a  good  lump  was  left,  I  held  my 
tung  ;  but  I  cooden  help  wondering  at  Lord  Crab's  igs- 
tream  compashn  for  his  son,  and  miss,  with  her  10,000/. 
a-year,  having  only  3  guineas  in  her  pockit. 

I  took  home  (bless  us,  what  a  home  ?)  a  long  and 
very  infiamble  letter  from  miss,  in  which  she  dixscribed 
her  own  sorror  at  the  disappointment ;  swoar  she  lov'd 
him  only  the  moar  for  his  misfortns  ;  made  light  of 
them ;  as  a  pusson  for  a  paltry  sum  of  five  thousand 


152  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


pound  ought  never  to  be  cast  down,  'specially  as  he  had 
a  certain  independence  in  view ;  and  vowd  that  nothing, 
nothing,  should  ever  injuice  her  to  part  from  him,  et- 
settler,  etsettler. 

I  told  master  of  the  conversation  which  had  past  be- 
twigst  me  and  my  lord,  and  of  his  handsome  offers,  and 
his  borrow  at  hearing  of  his  son's  being  taken :  and 
likewise  mentioned  how  strange  it  was  that  miss  should 
only  have  3  guineas,  and  with  such  a  fortn  :  bless  us, 
I  should  have  thot  that  she  would  always  have  carried 
a  hundred  thowsnd  lb.  in  her  pockit ! 

At  this  master  only  said  Pshaw  !  But  the  rest  of 
the  story  about  his  father  seemed  to  dixquiet  him  a  good 
deal,  and  he  made  me  repeat  it  over  agin. 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  agytated,  and  it 
seam'd  as  if  a  new  lite  was  breaking  in  upon  him. 

"  Chawls,"  says  he,  "  did  you  observe — did  miss — 
did  my  father  seem  particularly  intimate  with  Miss 
Griffin  ?" 

"  How  do  you  mean,  sir  ?"  says  I. 

"  Did  Lord  Crabs  appear  very  fond  of  Miss  Griffin  ?" 

"  He  was  suttnly  very  kind  to  her." 

"  Come,  sir,  speak  at  once  ;  did  Miss  Griffin  seem 
very  fond  of  his  lordship  ?" 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  truth,  sir,  I  must  say  she  seemed 
very  fond  of  him." 

"  What  did  he  call  her  ?" 

"  He  called  her  his  dearest  gal." 

"Did  he  take  her  hand?" 

"  Yes,  and  he — " 

"  And  he  what  ?" 


MR.    DEI  CE  \.(  i  .  153 


"  He  kist  her,  and  told  her  not  to  be  so  wery  down- 
hearted about  the  misfortn  which  had  hapnd  to  you." 

UI  have  it  now!"  says  he,  clinching  his  fist,  and 
growing  gashly  pail — "  I  have  it  now — the  infernal  old 
hoary  scoundrel !  the  wicked  unnatural  wretch  !  lie 
would  take  her  from  me  !"  And  lie  poured  out  a  volley 
of  oaves  which  are  impossbill  to  be  repeatid  here. 

I  thot  as  much  long  ago :  and  when  my  lord  kem 
with  his  vizits  so  pretious  affeckshnt  at  my  Lady  Grif- 
finses,  I  expected  some  such  game  was  in  the  wind.  In- 
deed, I'd  heard  a  somethink  of  it  from  the  Griffinses 
servnts,  that  my  lord  was  mighty  tender  with  the  ladies. 

One  thing,  however,  was  evident  to  a  man  of  his  in- 
tleckshal  capassaties ;  he  must  either  marry  the  gal  at 
onst,  or  he  stood  very  small  chance  of  having  her.  He 
must  git  out  of  limbo  immediantly,  or  his  respectid  fa- 
ther might  be  stepping  into  his  vaykint  shoes.  Oh  !  he 
saw  it  all  now — the  fust  attempt  at  arest,  the  marridge 
fixt  at  12  o'clock,  and  the  bayliffs  fixt  to  come  and  in- 
tarup  the  marridge ! — the  jewel,  praps,  betwigst  him 
and  De  l'Orge  :  but  no,  it  was  the  ruoman  who  did  that 
— a  man  don't  deal  such  fowl  blows,  igspecially  a  father 
to  his  son :  a  woman  may,  poar  thing  ! — she's  no  other 
means  of  reventch,  and  is  used  to  fight  with  under-hand 
wepns  all  her  life  through. 

Well,  whatever  the  pint  might  be,  this  Deuceacesaw 
pretty  clear,  that  he'd  been  heat  by  his  father  at  his  own 
game — a  trapp  set  for  him  onst,  which  had  been  defitted 
by  my  presnts  of  mind — another  trap  set  afterwids,  in 
which  my  lord  had  been  suxesfie.  Now,  my  lord,  roag 
as  he  was,  was  much  t(»>  good-naterd  to  do  an  unkind 
ackshn,  mearly  for  the  sake  of  doing  it.     He'd  got  to 


154  THE    YBLLOWPLTJSH    TAPERS. 

tliat  pich  that  lie  didn't  mind  injuries — thev  were  all 
fair  play  to  him — he  gave  'em,  and  reseav'd  them,  with- 
out a  thought  of  mallis.  If  he  wanted  to  injer  his  son, 
it  was  to  henefick  himself.  And  how  was  this  to  be 
done  ?  By  getting  the  hairiss  to  himself  to  be  sure. 
The  Honrabble  Mr.  D.  didn't  say  so,  but  I  knew  his 
feelinx  well  enough — he  regretted  that  he  had  not  given 
the  old  genlmn  the  money  he  askt  for. 

Poar  fello !  he  thought  he  had  hit  it,  but  he  was 
wide  of  the  mark  after  all. 

Well,  but  what  was  to  be  done?  It  was  clear  that 
he  must  marry  the  gal  at  any  rate — cootky  coot,  as  the 
French  say ;  that  is,  marry  her,  and  hang  the  igspence. 

To  do  so  he  must  fust  git  out  of  prisn — to  git  out  of 
prisn  he  must  pay  his  debts — and  to  pay  his  debts,  he 
must  give  every  shilling  he  was  worth.  Never  mind, 
four  thousand  pound  is  a  small  stake  to  a  reglar  gam- 
bler, igspecially  when  he  must  play  it,  or  rot  for  life  in 
prisn,  and  when,  if  he  plays  it  well,  it  will  give  him  ten 
thousand  a-year. 

So,  seeing  there  was  no  help  for  it,  he  maid  up  his 
mind,  and  accordingly  wrote  the  follying  letter  to  Miss 
Griffin  :— 

"My  adored  Matilda, — Your  letter  has  indeed 
been  a  comfort  to  a  poor  fellow,  who  had  hoped  that 
this  night  would  have  been  the  most  blessed  in  his  life, 
and  now  finds  bimseif  condemned  to  spend  it  within  a 
prison  wall  !  You  know  the  accursed  conspiracy  which 
has  brought  these  liabilities  upon  me,  and  the  foolish 
friendship  which  has  cost  me  so  much.  But  what  mat- 
ters? We  hav*-.  as  you  say,  enough,  even  though  I 
must   pay   this   shameful    demand    upon   me;   and   five 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  155 


thousand  pounds  are  as  nothing,  compared  to  the  happi- 
ness which  I  lose  in  being  separated  a  night  from  thee ! 
Courage,  however !  If  I  make  a  sacrifice,  it  is  for  you  ; 
and  I  were  heartless  indeed,  if  I  allowed  my  own  losses 
to  balance  for  a  moment  against  your  happiness. 

"  Is  it  not  so,  beloved  one  \  Is  not  your  happiness 
bound  up  with  mine,  in  a  union  with  me  ?  I  am  proud 
to  think  so — proud,  too,  to  offer  such  a  humble  proof  as 
this  of  the  depth  and  purity  of  my  affection. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  will  still  be  mine ;  tell  me  that 
you  will  be  mine  to-morrow  ;  and  to-morrow  these  vile 
chains  shall  be  removed,  and  I  will  be  free  once  more — 
or  if  bound,  only  bound  to  you !  My  adorable  Matilda ! 
my  betrothed  bride !  write  to  me  ere  the  evening  closes, 
for  I  shall  never  be  able  to  shut  my  eyes  in  slumber 
upon  my  prison-couch,  until  they  have  been  first  blest 
by  the  sight  of  a  few  winds  from  thee !  Write  to  me, 
love !  write  to  me  !  I  languish  for  the  reply  which  is 
to  make  or  mar  me  for  ever. 

"  Your  affectionate, 

"  A.  P.  D." 

Having  polish!  off  this  epistol,  master  intrustid  it  to 
me  to  carry,  and  bade  me,  at  the  same  time,  to  try  and 
give  it  into  Alias  Griffin's  hand  alone.  I  ran  with  it  to 
Lady  Griffinses.  I  found  miss,  as  I  desired,  in  a  solla- 
tary  condition;  and  I  presented  her  with  master's  pa- 
fewmed  r>il!\ . 

She  read  it,  and  the  Dumber  of  size  to  which  she 
gave  \  hit,  and  the  tears  which  she  shed,  beggar  dig- 
scription.      She  wep  and  sighed  until  I  thought  she 


156  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

would  bust.  She  claspt  my  hand  even  in  her's,  and 
said,  "  O,  Charles !  is  he  very,  very  miserable  ?" 

"  He  is,  ma'am,"  says  I ;  "  very  miserable  indeed — 
nobody,  upon  my  honour,  could  be  miserablerer." 

On  hearing  this  pethetic  remark,  her  mind  "was 
made  up  at  onst :  and  sitting  down  to  her  eskrewtaw, 
she  immediantly  ableaged  master  with  an  anser.  Here 
it  is  in  black  and  white. 

"  My  prisoned  bird  shall  pine  no  more,  but  fly  home 
to  its  nest  in  these  arms !  Adored  Algernon,  I  will 
meet  thee  to-morrow,  at  the  same  place,  at  the  same 
hour.  Then,  then,  it  will  be  impossible  for  aught  but 
death  to  divide  us.  "  M.  G." 

This  kind  of  flumry  stile  comes,  you  see,  of  reading 
novvles,  and  cultivating  littery  purshuits  in  a  small  way. 
How  much  better  is  it  to  be  puffickly  ignorant  of  the 
hart  of  writing,  and  to  trust  to  the  writing  of  the  heart. 
This  is  my  style ;  artyfiz  I  despise,  and  trust  compleatly 
to  natur :  but  revnong  a  no  mootong,  as  our  continential 
friends  remark,  to  that  nice  white  sheep,  Algernon  Percy 
Deuceace,  Exquire ;  that  wenrabble  old  ram,  my  Lord 
Crabs,  his  father ;  and  that  tender  and  dellygit  young 
lamb,  Miss  Matilda  Griffin. 

She  had  just  foalded  up  into  its  proper  triangular 
shape  the  noat  transcribed  abuff,  and  I  was  jest  on  the 
point  of  saying,  according  to  my  master's  orders,  "Miss, 
if  you  please,  the  Honrabble  Mr.  Deuceace  would  be 
very  much  ableaged  to  you  to  keep  the  seminary  which 

is  to  take   place  to-morrow  a  profound  se ,"  when 

my  master's  father  entered,  and  I  fell  back  to  the  door. 
Mi.-s,   without  a  word,  rusht   into   his   arms,  bust  into 


MB.    DEUCEACE.  15? 


teers  agin,  as  was  her  reglar  way  (it  must  be  confestshe 
was  of  a  very  mist  constitution),  and  shewing  to  him 
his  son's  note,  cried,  "  Look,  my  dear  lord,  how  nobly 
your  Algernon,  our  Algernon,  writes  to  me.  Who  can 
doubt  after  this  of  the  purity  of  his  matchless  affection  ?'' 

My  lord  took  the  letter,  read  it,  seamed  a  good  deal 
amyoused,  and  returning  it  to  its  owner,  said,  very  much 
to  my  surprise,  "My  dear  Miss  Griffin,  he  certainly 
does  seem  in  earnest ;  and  if  you  choose  to  make  this 
match  without  the  consent  of  your  mother-in-law,  you 
know  the  consequence,  and  are  of  course  your  own  mis- 
tress." 

"  Consequences ! — for  shame,  my  lord  !  A  little 
money,  more  or  less,  what  matters  it  to  two  hearts  like 
ours  V 

"Hearts  are  very  pretty  tilings,  my  sweet  young 
lady,  but  three  per  cents,  are  better." 

"Nay,  have  we  not  an  ample  income  of  our  own, 
without  the  aid  of  Lady  Griffin  ?" 

My  lord  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Be  it  so,  my 
love,"  says  he.  "  I'm  sure  I  can  have  no  other  reason 
to  prevent  a  union  which  is  founded  upon  such  disinter- 
ested affection." 

And  here  the  conversation  dropt.  Miss  retired, 
clasping  her  hands,  and  making  play  with  the  whites 
of  her  i's.  My  lord  began  trotting  up  and  down  the 
room,  with  his  fat  hands  stuck  in  his  britches  pockits, 
his  countnince  lighted  up  with  igstream  joy,  and  sing- 
ing, to  my  inordnit  igstonishment : 

"  See  the  conquering  hero  comes ! 
Tiddy  diddy  doll— tiddydoll,  doll,  doll." 


158  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

He  began  singing  this  song,  and  tearing  up  and  down 
the  room  like  mad.  I  stood  amaizd — a  new  light  broke 
in  upoD  me.  He  wasn't  going,  then,  to  make  love  to 
Miss  Griffin !  Master  might  marry  her  !  Had  she  not 
got  the  for — ? 

I  say,  I  was  just  standing  stock  still,  my  eyes  fixt, 
my  hands  puppindieklar,  my  mouf  wide  open  and  these 
igstrordinary  thoughts  passing  in  my  mind,  when  my 
lord,  having  got  to  the  last  "  doll"  of  his  song,  just  as 
I  came  to  the  sillible  "  for  "  of  my  ventrilorpiism,  or  in- 
ward speech — we  had  eatch  jest  reached  the  pint  dig- 
scribed,  when  the  meditations  of  both  were  sudnly  stopt 
by  my  lord,  in  the  midst  of  his  singin  and  trottin  match, 
coming  bolt  up  aginst  poar  me,  sending  me  up  aginst 
one  end  of  the  room,  himself  flying  back  to  the  other ; 
and  it  was  only  after  considrabble  agitation  that  we  were 
at  length  restored  to  any  thing  like  a  liquilibrium. 

"  What,  you  here,  you  infernal  rascal  ?"  says  my 
lord. 

"Your  lordship's  very  kind  to  notus  me,"  says  I; 
"  I  am  here ;"  and  I  gave  him  a  look. 

He  saw  I  knew  the  whole  game. 

And  after  whisling  a  bit,  as  was  his  habit  when 
puzzled  (I  bleave  he'd  have  only  whisled  if  he  had  been 
told  he  was  to  be  hanged  in  five  minnits),  after  whisling 
a  bit,  he  stops  sudnly,  and  coming  up  to  me,  says  : 

"Hearkye,  Charles,  this  marriage  must  take  place 
to-morrow." 

"  Must,  it,  sir,"  says  I;  "now,  for  my  part,  I  don't 
think " 

"  Stop,  my  good  fellow ;  if  it  does  not  take  place, 
what  dr.  vou  oain  ?" 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  159 


This  staggered  me.  If  it  didn't  take  place,  I  only 
lost  a  situation,  for  master  had  but  just  enough  money 
to  pav  his  detts  ;  and  it  wooden  soot  my  book  to  serve 
him  in  prison  or  starving. 

"  Well,"  says  my  lord,  "  you  see  the  force  of  my 
argument.  Now,  look  here,"  and  he  lugs  out  a  crisp, 
fluttering,  snowy  hundred  pun  note!  "if  my  son  and 
Miss  Griffin  are  married  to-morrow,  you  shall  have  this  ; 
and  I  will,  moreover,  take  you  into  my  service,  and  give 
you  double  your  present  wages." 

Flesh  and  blood  cooden  bear  it.  "  My  lord,"  says 
I,  laying  my  hand  upon  my  busm,  "  only  give  me  se- 
curity, and  I'm  yours  for  ever." 

The  old  noblemin  grind,  and  pattid  me  on  the 
shoulder.  "  Right,  my  lad,"  says  he,  "  right — you're  a 
nice  promising  youth.  "  Here  is  the  best  security,"  and 
he  pulls  out  his  pockit-book,  returns  the  hundred  pun 
bill,  and  takes  out  one  for  fifty — "  here  is  half  to-day  ; 
to-morrow  you  shall  have  the  remainder." 

My  fingers  trembled  a  little  as  I  took  the  pretty 
fluttering  bit  of  paper,  about  five  times  as  big  as  any 
sum  of  money  I  had  ever  had  in  my  life.  I  cast  my 
i  upon  the  amount :  it  was  a  fifty  sure  enough — a  bank 
poss-bill,  made  payable  to  Leonora  Emilia  Griffin,  and 
indorsed  by  her.  The  cat  was  out  of  the  bag.  Now, 
gentle  reader,  I  spose  you  begin  to  see  the  game. 

"Recollect  from  this  day,  you  are  in  my  service." 

"My  lord,  you  overpoar  me  with  your  faviours." 

"  Co  to  the  devil,  sir,"  says  he,  "  do  your  duly,  and 
hold  your  tongue." 

And  thus  I  went  from  tin*  service  of  the  Honorabble 


160  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

Algernon  Deuceace  to  that  of  his  exlnsy  the  Right 

Honorahble  Earl  of  Crabs. 

***** 

On  going  back  to  prisn,  I  found  Deuceace  locked 
up  in  that  oajus  place  to  which  his  igstravygansies  had 
deservedly  led  him,  and  felt  for  him,  I  must  say,  a  great 
deal  of  contemp.  A  raskle  such  as  he — a  swinler,  who 
had  robbed  poar  Dawkins  of  the  means  of  igsistance, 
who  had  cheated  his  fellow  roag,  Mr.  Richard  Blewitt, 
and  who  was  making  a  musnary  marridge  with  a  dis- 
gusting creacher  like  Miss  Griffin,  didn  merit  any  com- 
pashn  on  my  purt ;  and  I  determined  quite  to  keep  se- 
cret the  suckmstansies  of  my  privit  intervew  with  his 
exlnsy  my  presnt  master. 

I  gev  him  Miss  Griffinses  trianglar,  which  he  read 
with  a  satasfied  air.  Then,  turning  to  me,  says  he : 
"You  gave  this  to  Miss  Griffin  alone  ?" 

-  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  gave  her  my  message  ?" 
"  Yes/sir." 

"  And  you  are  quite  sure  Lord  Crabs  was  not  there 

when  you  gave  either  the  message  or  the  note  ?" 

"  Not  there  upon  my  honour,"  says  I. 

"  Hang  your  honour,  sir  !  Brush  my  hat  and  coat, 

and  go  call  a  coach,  do  you  hear  ?" 

***** 

I  did  as  1  was  ordered ;  and  on  coming  back  found 
master  in  what's  called,  I  think,  the  greffe  of  the  prisn. 
The  officer  in  waiting  had  out  a  great  register,  and  was 
talking  to  master  in  the  French  tongue,  in  coarse ;  a 
number  of  poar  prisn ers  were  looking  eagerly  on. 

"Let  us  see,  my  lor,"  says  he;    the  debt  is  98,700 


MB.    DEUCEACE.  161 


francs ;  there  are  capture  expenses,  interest  so  much  ; 
and  the  whole  sum  amounts  to  a  hundred  thousand 
francs,  moins  13. 

Deuceace,  in  a  very  myjestic  way,  takes  out  of  his 
pocket-book  four  thowsnd  pun  notes.  "This  is  not 
French  money,  but  I  presume  that  you  know  it,  M. 
Greffier,"  says  he. 

The  greffier  turned  round  to  old  Solomon,  a  money- 
changer, who  had  one  or  two  clients  in  the  prisn,  and 
hapnd  luckily  to  be  there.  "  Les  billets  sont  bons,"  says 
he,  "je  les  prendrai  pour  cent  mille  douze  cent  francs, 
et  j'espere,  my  lor,  de  vous  revoir." 

"  Good,"  says  the  greffier ;  "  I  know  them  to  be  good 
and  I  will  give  my  lor  the  difference,  and  make  out  his 
release." 

"Which  was  done.  The  poar  debtors  gave  a  feeble 
cheer,  as  the  great  dubble  iron  gates  swung  open,  and 
clang  to  again,  and  Deuceace  stept  out,  and  me  after 
him  to  breathe  the  fresh  hair. 

He  had  been  in  the  place  but  six  hours,  and  was 
now  free  again — free,  and  to  be  married  to  ten  thou- 
sand a-year  nex  day.  But,  for  all  that,  he  lookt  very 
faint  and  pale.  He  had  put  down  his  great  stake ;  and 
when  he  came  out  of  Saint  Pelagie,  he  had  but  fifty 
pounds  left  in  the  world  ! 

Never  mind — when  onst  the  money's  down,  make 
your  mind  easy ;  and  so  Deuceace  did.  He  drove 
back  to  the  Hotel  Mirabew,  where  he  ordered  apart- 
mince  infinately  more  splendid  than  befor ;  and  I  pretty 
soon  told  Toinette,  and  the  rest  of  the  suvvants,  how 
nobly  he  behayved,  and  how  he  valyoud  four  thousnd 
pound  no  more  than  ditch  water.     And   such  was  the 


162  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

consquiocies  of  my  praises,  and  the  poplarity  I  got  for 
un  boath,  that  the  delighted  landlady  immediantly 
charged  him  dubble  what  she  would  have  done,  if  it 
hadn  been  for  my  stoaries. 

Tie  ordered  splendid  apartmince,  then,  for  the  nex 
week,  a  carriage  and  four  for  Fontainebleau  to-morrow 
at  12  precisely;  and  having  settled  all  these  things, 
went  quietly  to  the  Roshy  de  Cancale,  where  he  dined, 
as  well  he  might,  for  it  was  now  eight  o'clock.  I 
didn't  spare  the  shompang  neither  that  night,  I  can  tell 
you  ;  for  when  I  carried  the  note  he  gave  me  for  Miss 
Griffin  in  the  evening,  informing  her  of  his  freedom, 
that  young  lady  remarked  my  hagitated  manner  of 
walking  and  speaking,  and  said,  "  Honest  Charles !  he 
is  flusht  with  the  events  of  the  day.  Here,  Charles,  is 
a  napoleon  ;  take  it  and  drink  to  your  mistress." 

I  pockitid  it,  but  I  must  say,  I  didn't  like  the  money 
■ — it  went  aginst  my  stomick  to  take  it. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    MARRIAGE. 

Well,  the  nex  day  came ;  at  12  the  carridge  and  four 
was  waiting  at  the  ambasdor's  doar ;  and  Miss  Griffin 
and  the  faithfle  Kicksy  were  punctial  to  the  apintment. 
T  don't  wish  to  digscribe  the  marridge  seminary — 
how  the  embasy  chapling  jined  the  hands  of  this  loving 
young  couple — how  one  of  the  embasy  footmin  was 
called  in  to  witness  the  marridge — how  miss  wep  and 
fainted,  as  usial — and  how  Deuceace  carried  her,  faint- 
ing, to  the  brisky,  and  drove  off  to  Fontingblo,   where 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  163 


they  were  to  pass  the  fust  weak  of  the  honey-moon. 
They  took  no  sennits,  because  they  wisht,  they  said,  to 
be  privit.  And  so,  when  I  had  shut  up  the  steps,  and 
bid  the  postilion  drive  on,  I  bid  ajew  to  the  Honrabble 
Algernon,  ond  went  oft'  strait  to  his  exlent  father. 

"Is  it  all  over,  Chaw  Is  ?"  says  he. 

"  I  saw  them  turned  off  at  igsackly  a  quarter  past 
12,  my  lord,"  says  I. 

"  Did  you  give  Miss  Griffin  the  paper,  as  I  told 
you,  before  her  marriage  ?" 

"  I  did,  my  lord,  in  the  presnts  of  Mr.  Brown,  Lord 
Bobtail's  man,  who  can  swear  to  her  having  had  it." 

I  must  tell  you  that  my  lord  had  made  me  read  a 
paper  which  Lady  Griffin  had  written,  and  which  I 
was  comishnd  to  give  in  the  manner  menshnd  abuff. 
It  ran  to  this  effect: — 

"  According  to  the  authority  given  me  by  the  wdll 
of  my  late  dear  husband,  I  forbid  the  marriage  of  Miss 
Griffin  with  the  Honourable  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace. 
If  Miss  Griffin  persists  in  the  union,  I  warn  her  that  she 
must  abide  by  the  consequences  of  her  act. 

"  Leonora  Emilia  Griffin. 
"  Rue  de  Rivoli,  Man  8,  1818." 

When  I  gave  this  to  Miss  as  she  entered  the  cort- 
yard,  a  minnit  before  my  master's  arrivle,  she  only  read 
it  contemptiously,  and  said,  "I  laugh  at  the  threats  of 
Lady  Griffin  ;"  and  she  toar  the  paper  in  two,  and  walk- 
ed on,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  faithful  and  obleaging 
Miss  Kicks. y. 

I  picked  up  the  paper  for  fear  of  axdents,  and  brot 
it  to  my  lord.     Not  that  there  was  any  necessaty,   for 


164 


THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


he'd  kep  a  copy,  and  made  me  and  another  witniss 
(my  Lady  Griffin's  solissator)  read  them  both,  before  he 
sent  either  away. 

"  Good !"  says  he ;  and  he  projuiced  from  his  pot- 
folio  the  fello  of  that  bewchus  fifty-pun  note,  which  he'd 
given  me  yesterday.  "  I  keep  my  promise,  you  see 
Charles,"  says  he.     "  You  are  now  in   Lady  Griffin's 

service,   in  the  place  of  Mr.  Fitzclarence,  who  retires. 

Go  to  Froje's,  and  get  a  livery." 

"But,   my  lord,"  says  I,    "I  was  not  to  go  into 

Lady   Griffinses  service,  according  to  the  bargain,   but 

into " 

"  It's  all  the  same  thing,"  says  he ;  and  he  walked 

off.      I  went  to  Mr.  Froje's,  and  ordered  a  new  livry ; 

and  found,  lickwise,  that  our  coachmin,   and  Munseer 

Mortimer  had  been  there  too.     My  lady's   livery  was 

changed,  and  was  now  of  the  same  color  as  my   old 

coat,  at  Mr.  Deuceace's  ;  and  I'm  blest  if  there  wasn't 

a  tremenjious  great  earl's  corronit  on  the  butns,  instid 

of  the  Griffin  rampint,  which  was  worn  befoar. 

I  asked   no    questions,    however,    but   had  myself 

measured  ;  and  slep  that  night  at  the  Plas  Vandome. 

I  didn't  go   out  with  the  carridge  for  a  day  or  two, 
though ;  my  lady  only  taking  one  footmin,  she  said, 

until  her  new  carridge  was  turned  out. 

I  think  you  can  guess  what's  in  the  wind  now  ! 
I  bot  myself  a  dressing  case,   a  box  of  Ody  colong, 

a   few    duzen   lawn  sherts  and  neckcloths,  and  other 

things  which  were  necessaiy  for  a  genlmn  in  my  rank. 

Silk  stockings  was  provided  by  the  rules  of  the  house. 

And   I   completed  the  bisniss  by  writing  the  follying 

ginteel  letter  t<>  my  late  master: — 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  165 


"  Charles  Yellowplush,  Esquire  to  the  honour- 
able A.  P.  Deuceace. 

"Sur, — Suckmstansies  liave  acurd  sins  I  last  had 

the  honner  of  wating  on  you,  which  render  it  imposs- 

bill  that  I  should  remane  any  longer  in  your  suvvice, 

I'll  thank  you  to  leave  out  my  thinx,  when  they  come 

home  on  Sattady  from  the  wash. 

"  Your  obeajnt  servnt, 

Charles  Yellowplush. 
"  Plus  Vendorrie." 

The  athografy  of  the  abuv  noat,  I  confess,  is  atro- 
cious ;  but,  he  voolt/voo  ?  I  was  only  eighteen,  and  hadn 
then  the  expearance  in  writing  which  I've  enjide  sins. 

Having  thus  done  my  jewty  in  evry  way,  I  shall 
prosead,  in  the  nex  chapter,  to  say  what  hapnd  in  my 
new  place. 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE   nOKEY-MOON. 

The  weak  at  Fontingblow  past  quickly  away  ;  and  at 
the  end  of  it,  our  son  and  daughter-in-law — a  pare  of 
nice  young  tuttle-duvs — returned  to  their  nest,  at  the 
Hotel  Mirabew.  I  suspeck  that  the  cock  turtle-dove 
was  preshos  sick  of  his  barging. 

When  they  arriv'd,  the  fust  thing  they  found  on 
their  table  was  a  large  parsle  wrapt  up  in  silver  paper, 
and  a  newspaper,  and  a  couple  of  cards,  tied  up  with  a 
peace  of  white  ribbing.  In  the  parsle  was  a  hansume 
piece  of  plum-cake,  with  a  deal  of  sugar.  On  the  cards 
was  wrote,  in  GofhV-k  characters, 


166 


THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


•Earl  ai  (Craia. 


And,  in  very  small  Italian, 


Countess  of  Crabs. 


And  in  the  paper  was  the  follying  parrowgraff : — 

"  Marriage  in  High  Life. — Yesterday,  at  the  British  em- 
bassy,  the  Right  Honourable  John  Augustus  Altamont  Plau- 
tagenet,  Earl  of  Crabs,  to  Leonora  Emilia,  widow  of  the  late 
Lieutenant-General  Sir  George  Griffin,  K.  C.  B.  An  elegant 
deji  "ne  was  given  to  the  happy  couple,  by  his  excellency  Lord 
Bobtail,  who  gave  away  the  bride.  The  elite  of  the  foreign 
diplomacy,  the  Prince  Talleyrand,  and  Marshal  the  Duke  of 
Dalmatia,  on  behalf  of  H.  M.  the  King  of  France,  honoured  the 
banquet  and  the  marriage  ceremony.  Lord  and  Lady  Crabs 
intend  passing  a  few  weeks  at  Saint  Cloud." 

The  above  dockyments,  along  with  my  own  triffling 
hilly,  of  which  I  have  also  givn  a  copy,  greated  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Deuceace  on  their  arrivle  from  Fontingblo. 
Not  being  presnt,  I  can't  say  what  Deuceace  said,  but  I  ran 
fancy  how  he  lookt,  and  how  poor  Mrs.  Deuceace  look't. 
They  weren't  much  inclined  to  rest  after  the  fiteeg  of 
the  junny,  for,  in  \  an  hour  after  their  arrival  at  Paris, 
the  hosses  were  put  to  the  carridge  agen,  and  down 
they  came  thundering  to  our  country-house,  at  St. 
Cloud  (pronounst  by  those  absud  Krenchmin  SingKloo), 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  167 


to  interrup  our  chaste  loves,  and  delishs  marridge  injy- 
menls. 

My  lord  was  sittn  in  a  crimson  satan  dress,  lolling 
on  a  sofa  at  an  open  windy,  smoaking  seagars,  as  ushle  ; 
her  ladyship,  who,  to  du  him  justice,  didn  mind  the 
smell,  occupied  another  end  of  the  room,  and  was  work- 
ing, in  wusted,  a  pare  of  slippers,  or  an  umbrellore  case, 
or  a  coal  skittle,  or  some  such  nonsints.  You  would 
have  thought  to  have  sean  'em  that  they  had  been  mar- 
ried  a  sentry,  at  least.  Well,  I  bust  in  upon  this  con- 
jugal tatortator,  and  said,  very  much  alarmed,  "My 
lord,  here's  your  son  and  daughter-in-law." 

"  Well,"  says  my  lord,  quite  calm,  "  and  what 
then?" 

"  Mr.  Deuceace !"  says  my  lady,  starting  up,  and 
looking  fritened. 

"Yes,  my  love,  my  son;  but  you  need  not  be  al- 
armed. Pray,  Charles,  say  that  Lady  Crabs  and  I  will 
be  very  happy  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Deuceace  ;  and  that 
they  must  excuse  us  receiving  them  en  famille.  Sit  still, 
my  blessing — take  things  coolly.  Have  you  got  the 
box  with  the  papers?" 

My  lady  pointed  to  a  great  green  box — the  same 
from  which  she  had  taken  the1  papers,  when  Deuceace 
fust  saw  them, — ami  handed  over  to  my  lord  a  fine 
gold  key.  I  wi 'lit  out,  met  Deuceace  and  his  wife  on  the 
stepps,  gave  my  messinge,  and  bowed  them  palitely  in. 

My  lord  didn't  rise,  bnt  smoaked  away  as  usual 
(praps  a  littl"  quicker,  but  I  can't  say)  ;  my  lady  sate 
upright, looking  handsum  and  strong.  Deuceace  walked 
in.  his  left  arm  tied  to  his  breast,  his  wife  and  hat  on 
the  other.     He  looked  very  pale  and  frightened;  his 


168  THE    rBLLOWPLUBH    PAPERS. 


wife,  poar  thing  !  had  her  head  berried  in  her  handker 
chief,  and  sobd  fit  to  break  her  heart. 

Miss  Kicksy,  who  was  in  the  room  (but  I  didn  men- 
tion her,  she  was  less  than  nothink  in  our  house),  went 
up  to  Mrs.  Deuceace  at  onst,  and  held  out  her  arms — 
she  had  a  heart,  that  old  Kicksey,  and  I  respect  her  for 
it.  The  poor  hunchback  flung  herself  into  miss's 
arms,  with  a  kind  of  whooping  screech,  and  kep  there 
for  some  time,  sobbing  in  quite  a  historical  manner.  I 
saw  there  was  going  to  be  a  sean,  and  so,  in  cors,  left 
the  door  ajar. 

"  Welcome  to  Saint  Cloud,  Algy,  my  boy  !"  says  my 
lord,  in  a  loud,  hearty  voice.  "  You  thought  you  would 
give  us  the  slip,  eh,  you  rogue  ?  But  we  knew  it,  my 
dear  fellow  ;  we  knew  the  whole  affair — did  we  not,  my 
soul  ?  And,  you  see,  kept  our  secret  better  than  you 
did  yours." 

"  I  must  confess,  sir,"  says  Deuceace,  bowing,  "  that 
I  had  no  idea  of  the  happiness  which  awaited  me,  in 
the  shape  of  a  mother-in-law." 

■•  No,  you  dog;  no,  no,"  says  my  lord,  giggling; 
"  old  birds,  you  know,  not  to  be  caught  with  chaff,  like 
young  ones.  But,  here  Ave  are,  all  spliced  and  happy, 
at  last.  Sit  down,  Algernon ;  let  us  smoke  a  segar, 
and  talk  over  the  perils  and  adventures  of  the  last  month. 
My  love,"  says  my  lord,  turning  to  his  lady,  "you  have 
no  malice  against  poor  Algernon,  I  trust  3  Pray  shake 
his  hand?     (A  grin.) 

But  my  lady  rose,  and  said,  "I  have  told  Mr. 
Deuceace,  that  I  never  wished  t<>  see  him,  or  speak  to 
him,  more.  I  see  no  reason,  now,  to  change  my  opin' 
ion."    \ii'l.  herewith,  -li>-  sailed  out  <>ftli.-  room,  bv  tin- 


MK.    DEUCEACE.  169 


door   through  which  Kicksey  had  carried  poor  Mrs. 
Deuceace. 

"  "Well,  well,"  says  my  lord,  as  Lady  Crabs  swept 
by,  "  I  was  in  hopes  she  had  forgiven  you ;  but  I  know 
the  whole  story,  aud  I  must  confess,  you  used  her  cruel- 
ly ill.  Two  strings  to  your 'bow  ! — that  was  your  game, 
was  it,  you  rogue  ?" 

"  Do  you  mean,  my  lord,  that  you  know  all  that 
past  between  me  and  Lady  Grif — Lady  Ciabs,  before 
our  quarrel  ?" 

"  Perfectly — you  made  love  to  her,  and  she  <vas  al- 
most in  love  with  you  ;  you  jilted  her  for  money,  she 
got  a  man  to  shoot  your  hand  off  in  revenge ;  no  more 
dice-boxes,  now,  Deuceace ;  no  more  sauter  la  coupe. 
I  can't  think  how  the  deuce  you  will  manage  to  live 
without  them." 

"  Your  lordship  is  very  kind,  but  I  have  given  up 
play  altogether,"  says  Deuceace,  looking  mighty  black 
and  uneasy. 

"  Oh,  indeed !  Benedick  has  turned  a  moral  man, 
has  he  ?  This  is  better  and  better.  Are  you  thinking 
of  going  into  the  church,  Deuceace?" 

"  My  lord,  may  I  ask  you  to  be  a  little  more  seri- 
ous?" 

"  Serious  !  a  quoi  bon  ?  I  am  serious — serious  in  my 
surprise  that,  when  you  might  have  had  either  of  these 
women,  you  should  have  preferred  that  hideous  wife  of 
yours." 

"  May  I  ask  you,  in  turn,  how  you  came  to  be  so  little 
squeamish  about  a  wife,  as  to  choose  a  woman  who  had 
just  been  making  love  to  your  own  son?"  says  Deu- 
ceace. growing  fierce. 
8 


170  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  I  owe  forty 
thousand  pounds — there  is  an  execution  at  Size's  Hall — 
every  acre  I  have  is  in  the  hands  of  my  creditors ;  and 
that's  why  T  married  her.  Do  you  think  there  was  any 
love  ?  Lady  Crabs  is  a  dev'lisk  fine  woman,  but  she's 
not  a  fool — she  married  me. for  my  coronet,  and  I  mar- 
ried her  for  her  money." 

"  Well,  my  lord,  you  need  not  ask  me,  I  think,  why 
I  married  the  daughter-in-law." 

"  Yes,  but  I  do,  my  dear  boy.  How  the  deuce  are 
you  to  live  ?  Dawkins's  five  thousand  pounds  won't 
la -t  for  ever;  and  afterwards?" 

"  You  don't  mean,  my  lord, — you  don't — I  mean, 

you  can't D —  !"  says  he,  stalling  up,  and  losing  all 

patience,  "  you  don't  dare  to  say  that  Miss  Griffin  had 
not  a  fortune  of  ten  thousand  a-year  V 

"  My  lord  was  rolling  up,  and  wetting  betwigst  his 
lips,  another  segar  ;  he  lookt  up,  after  he  had  lighted 
it,  and  said,  quietly, 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Griffin  had  a  fortune  of  ten  thou- 
sand a-year." 

"Well,  sir,  and  has  she  not  got  it  now?  Has  she 
spent  it  in  a  week  .'"* 

"  She  has  not  got  a  sixpence  now  :  she  married  with- 
out her  mother's  consent  /" 

I  )<micc;u-c  sunk  down  in  a  chair;  audi  never  see 
such  a  dreadful  picture  of  despair  as  there  was  in  the 
face  of  that  retchidman! — he  writhed,  and  nasht  his 
teeth,  he  tore  open  his  coat,  and  wriggled  madly  tli<- 
stump  of  his  left  hand,  until,  fairly  beat,  he  threw  it 
over  his  livid  pale  face,  and,  sinking  backwards,  fairly 
wept  aloud. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  lVl 


Bah  !   it's  a  dreddfle  thing  to  bear  a  man  cryii 
his  pashn  torn  up  from  the  very  roots  of  his  heart,  as  it 

must  lit-  before  it  can  git  such  a  vent.  My  lord,  mean- 
while, rolled  his  segar,  lighted  it,  and  went  on. 

"  My  dear  boy,  the  girl  has  not  a  shilling.  I  wish- 
ed to  have  left  you  alone  in  peace,  with  your  four  th<  >u- 
sand  pounds  ;  you  might  have  lived  decently  upon  it  in 
Germany,  where  money  is  at  5  per  cent.,  where  your 
duns  would  nol  find  you,  and  a  couple  of  hundred  a- 
year  would  have  kept  you  and  your  wife  in  comfort. 
But,  you  see,  Lady  Crabs  would  not  listen  to  it.  You 
bad  injured  her,  and,  after  she  had  tried  to  kill  you,  and 
failed,  she  determined  to  ruin  you,  and  succeeded.  I 
must  own  to  you  that  I  directed  the  arresting  business, 
and  put  her  up  to  buying  your  protested  bills;  she  got 
them  for  a  trifle,  and  as  you  have  paid  them,  has  made 
a  good  two  thousand  pounds  by  her  bargain.  It  was  a 
painful  thing,  to  be  sure,  for  a  father  to  get  his  son  ar- 
rested ;  but  que  voulez-vous !  I  did  not  appear  in  the 
transaction;  she  would  have  you  ruined;  audit  was  ab- 
solutely necessary  that  you  should  marry  before  I  could, 
so  I  pleaded  your  cause  with  Miss  Griffin,  and  made 
you  the  happy  man  you  are.  You  rogue,  you  rogue ! 
you  thought  to  match  your  old  father,  did  you  ?  But, 
nevermind;  lunch  will  be  ready  soon.  In  the  mean- 
time, have  a  segat,  and  drink  a  glass  of  Sattterne." 

Deuceace,  who  bad  been  listening  to  this  speech, 
sprung  up  wildly. 

"  I'll  not  believe  it."  he  said  ;  "it's  a  lie,  an  infernal 
lie!  forged  by  you,  you  hoary  villain,  and  by  the  mur- 
deress and  strumpet  you  have  married.  I'll  not  believe 
it;  show  me  the  will.     Matilda  !  Matilda!"  shouted  he, 


1 T2  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

screaming   hoarsely,   and  flinging    open  the  door   by 
which  she  had  gone  out. 

"Keep  your  temper,  my  boy.  You  are  vexed,  and 
I  feel  for  you  :  but  don't  use  such  bad  language  :  it  is 
quite  needless,  believe  me." 

"  Matilda !"  shouted  out  Deuceace  again ;  and  the 
poor  crooked  thing  came  trembling  in,  followed  by  Miss 
Kicksey. 

"Is  this  true,  woman?"  says  he  clutching  hold  of 
her  hand. 

"  What,  dear  Algernon  ?"  says  she. 

"What?"  screams  out  Deuceace, — "what?  Why 
that  you  are  a  beggar,  for  marrying  without  your 
mother's  consent — that  you  basely  lied  to  me,  in  order 
to  bring  about  this  match — that  you  are  a  swindler,  in 
conspiracy  with  that  old  fiend  yonder,  and  the  she-devil, 
his  wife?" 

"It  is  true,"  sobbed  the  poor  woman,  "that  I  have 

nothing,  but " 

"Nothing  but  what?     Why  don't  you  speak,  you 
drivelling  fool?" 

"  I  have  nothing! — but  you,  clearest  have  two  thous- 
and a-vear.  Is  that  not  enough  for  us  ?  You  love  me 
for  myself,  don't  you,  Algernon?  You  have  told  me 
so  a  thousand  times — say  so  again,  dear  husband;  and 
do  not,  do  not  be  so  unkind."  And  here  she  sank  on 
her  knees,  and  clung  to  him,  and  tried  to  catch  his 
hand,  and  kiss  it. 

"How  much  did  you  say?"  says  my  lord. 

"Two  thousand  a-year,  sir;  he  has  told  us  so  a 
thousand  times." 

"  Two   thousand!   Two  tlmii — ho,  ho,  ho! — haw! 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  173 


haw  !  haw  !"  roars  my  lord.  "  That  is,  I  vow,  the  best 
tiling  I  ever  heard  in  my  life.  My  dear  creature,  he 
has  not  a  shilling — not  a  single  maravedi,  by  all  the 
gods  and  goddesses."  And  this  exlnt  noblemin  began 
laffin  louder  than  ever ;  a  very  kind  and  feeling  gerlmn 
he  was,  as  all  must  confess. 

There  was  a  paws  :  and  Mrs.  Deuceace  didn  begin 
cussing  and  swearing  at  her  husband  as  he  had  done 
at  her :  she  only  said,  "  O  Algernon !  is  this  true  ?" 
and  got  up,  and  went  to  a  chair,  and  wep  in  quiet. 

My  lord  opened  the  great  box.  "  If  you  or  your 
lawyers  would  like  to  examine  Sir  George's  will,  it  is 
quite  at  your  service ;  you  will  see  here  the  proviso 
which  I  mentioned,  that  gives  the  entire  fortune  to  Lady 
Griffin — Lady  Crabs  that  is  :  and  here,  my  dear  boy, 
you  see  the  danger  of  hasty  conclusions.  Her  ladyship 
only  showed  you  the  first  page  of  the  will,  of  course, 
she  wanted  to  try  you.  You  thought  you  made  a  great 
stroke  in  at  once  proposing  to  Miss  Griffin — do  not 
mind  it,  my  love,  he  really  loves  you  now  very  sincere- 
ly ! — when,  in  fart,  you  would  have  done  much  better 
to  have  read  the  rest  of  the  will.  You  were  com- 
pletely bitten,  my  boy — humbugged,  bamboozled — 
ay,  and  by  your  old  father,  you  dog.  I  told  you  I 
would,  you  know,  when  you  refused  to  lend  me  a  por- 
tion of  your  Dawkins  money.  I  told  you  I  would  ;  and 
I  did.  I  had  you  the  very  next  day.  Let  this  be  a 
l<>son  to  you,  Percy  my  boy;  don't  try  your  luck 
again  against  such  old  hands;  look  deuced  well  before 
you  leap  ;  audi  alteram  partem,  my  lad,  which  means, 
read  both  sides  of  the  will.  I  think  lunch  is  ready; 
but  I  see  you  don't  smoke.     Shall  we  go  in  ?" 


174  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  Stop  my  lord,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  very  humble  ; 
"I  shall  not  share  your  hospitality — but — but  you  know 
my  condition  ;  I  am  penniless — you  know  the  manner 
in  which  my  wife  has  been  brought  up " 

"The  Honourable  Mrs.  Deuceace,  sir,  shall  always 
find  a  home  here,  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  interrupt 
the  friendship  between  her  dear  mother  and  herself." 

"  And  for  me,  sir,"  says  Deuceace,  speaking  faint, 
and  very  slow,  "  I  hope — I  trust — I  think,  my  lord, 
you  will  not  forget  me  ?" 

"  Forget  you,  sir  ;  certainly  not." 

"  And  that  you  will  make  some  provision  ?" 

"Algernon  Deuceace,"  says  my  lord,  getting  up 
from  the  BOphy,  and  looking  at  him  with  sieh  a  jolly 
malignity,  as  I  never  see,  "  I  declare,  before  Heaven, 
that  I  will  not  give  you  a  penny  !" 

Hereupon,  ray  lord  held  out  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Deuce- 
ace, and  said,  "  My  dear  will  you  join  your  mother 
and  me  ?  We  shall  always,  as  I  said,  have  a  home  for 
you." 

"My  lord,"  said  the  poar  thing,  dropping  a  curtsy, 

"my  borne  is  w;tb  him!" 

***** 

*  *  *  * 

***** 

About  three  months  after,  when  the  season  was  be- 
ginning at  Paris,  and  the  autumn  leafs  was  on  the 
ground,  ray  lord,  my  lady,  me  and  Mortimer,  were  taking 
a  stroal  in  the  Boddy  Balong,  the  carridge  driving  on 
slowly  a  L/rtd,  and  us  as  happy  as  possbill,  admiring 
the  pleas  At  woods,  and  the  goldn  sunset. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  175 


My  lord  was  expayshating  to  my  lady  upon  the  ex- 
quizit  beauty  of  the  sean,  and  pouring  forth  a  host  of 
butifle  and  virtuous  sentament  sootable  to  the  hour. 
It  was  dalitefle  to  hear  him.  "  Ah !"  said  he,  "  black 
must  be  the  heart,  my  love,  which  does  not  feel  the  in- 
fluence of  a  scene  like  this  ;  gathering  as  it  were,  from 
those  sunlit  skies,  a  portion  of  their  celestial  gold,  and 
gaining  somewhat  of  heaven  with  each  pure  draught  of 
this  delicious  air!" 

Lady  Crabs  did  not  speak,  but  prest  his  arm  and 
looked  upwards.  Mortimer  and  I,  too,  felt  some  of  the 
inrliwents  of  the  sean,  and  lent  on  our  goold  sticks  in 
silence.  The  carriage  drew  up  close  to  us,  and  my  lord 
and  my  lady  sauntered  slowly  tords  it. 

Jest  at  the  place  was  a  bench,  and  on  the  bench 
sate  a  poorly  drest  woman,  and  by  her,  leaning  against 
a  tree,  was  a  man  whom  I  thought  I'd  sean  befor.  He 
was  drest  in  a  shabby  blew  coat,  with  white  seems  and 
copper  buttons  ;  a  torn  hat  was  on  his  head,  and  great 
quantaties  of  matted  hair  and  whiskers  disfiggared 
his  countnints.  He  was  not  shaved,  and  as  pale  as 
stone. 

My  lord  and  lady  didn  tak  the  slightest  notice  of 
him,  but  past  on  to  the  carridge.  Me  and  Mortimer 
lickwise  took  our  places.  As  we  past,  the  man  had  got 
a  grip  of  the  woman's  shoulder,  who  was  holding  down 
her  head  sobbing  bitterly. 

No  sooner  were  my  lord  and  lady  seated,  than  they 
both,  with  igstream  dellixy  and  good  natur,  bust  into  a 
ror  of  lafter,  peal  upon  peal,  whooping  and  screaching, 
enough  to  frighten  the  evening  silents. 

Deuceace  turned  round.     I  see  his  face  now — the 


176  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

face  of  a  devvle  of  hell !  Fust,  he  lookt  towards  the  car- 
ridge,  and  pinted  to  it  with  his  maimed  arm ;  then  he 
raised  the  other,  and  struck  the  woman  by  his  side.  She 
fell,  screaming. 

Poor  thing !  Poor  thing  ! 


MR.    YlCLLOWl'l.lSlfs    AJEW.  177 


ME.  YELLOWPLUSH'S  AJEW. 

The  end  of  Mr.  Deuceace's  history  is  going  to  be  the 
end  of  my  corrispondince.  I  wish  the  public  was  as 
sory  to  part  with  me  as  I  am  with  the  public ;  becaws 
I  fansy  reely  that  we've  become  frends,  and  feal  for  my 
part  a  becoming  greaf  at  saying  ajew. 

It's  imposbill  for  me  to  continyow,  however,  a  writ- 
in,  as  I  have  done — violetting  the  rules  of  authography, 
and  trampling  upon  the  fust  princepills  of  English 
grammar.  When  I  began,  I  knew  no  better :  when  I'd 
carrid  on  these  papers  a  little  further,  and  grew  ac- 
custmd  to  writin,  I  began  to  smel  out  somethink  quear 
in  my  style.  Within  the  last  sex  weaks  I  have  been 
learning  to  spell :  and  when  all  the  world  was  rejoicing 
at  the  festivvaties  of  our  youthful  quean — when  all  i's 
were  fixt  upon  her  long  sweet  of  ambasdors  and  prin- 
ces, following  the  splendid  oarridge  of  Marshle  the 
Duke  of  Damlatiar,  and  blinking  at  the  pearls  and  di- 
mince  of  Prince  Oystereasy — Yellowplush  was  in  his 
loanly  pantry — his  eyes  were  fixt  upon  the  spelling- 
book — his  heart  was  bent  upon  mastring  the  diffickleties 
of  the  littery  professhn.     I  have  been,  in  fact,  convertid. 

You  shall  here  how.  Ours,  you  know,  is  a  Wig 
house ;  and  ever  sins  his  third  son  has  got  a  place  in 
the  Treasury,  his  secknd  a  captingsyin  the  Guards,  his 


178  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

fust,  the  secretary  of  enibasy  at  Pekin,  with  a  prospick  of 
being  appinted  ambasdor  at  Loo  Choo — ever  sins  mas- 
ter's sons  have  reseaved  these  attentions,  and  master 
himself  has  had  the  promis  of  a  pearitch,  he  has  been 
the  most  reglar,  consistnt,  honrabble  Libbaral,  iu  or  out 
of  the  House  of  Commins. 

Well,  being  a  Whig,  it's  the  fashn,  as  you  know,  to 
reseave  littery  pipple  ;  and  accordingly,  at  dinner,  tother 
day,  whose  name  do  you  think  I  had  to  hollar  out  on 
the  fust  landing-place  about  a  wick  ago  ?  After  several 
dukes  and  markises  had  been  enounced,  a  very  gen  tell 
fly  drives  up  to  our  doar,  and  out  steps  two  gentlemen. 
One  was  pail,  and  wor  spektickles,  a  wig,  and  a  white 
neckcloth.  The  other  was  slim,  with  a  hook  nose,  a 
pail  fase,  a  small  waist,  a  pare  of  falling  shoulders,  a 
tight  coat,  and  a  catarack  of  black  satting  tumbling  out 
of  his  busm,  and  falling  into  a  gilt  velvet  weskit.  The 
little  genlmn  settled  his  wigg,  and  pulled  out  his  rib- 
bins ;  the  younger  one  fluffed  the  dust  of  his  shoos, 
looked  at  his  wiskers  in  a  little  pockit-glas,  settled  his 
crevatt ;  and  they  both  mounted  up  stairs. 

"  What  name,  sir  ?"  says  I,  to  the  old  genlmn. 

"Name! — a!  now,  you  thief  o'  the  wurrrld,"  say.-, 
he,  "do  you  pretind  nat  to  know  me?  Say  it's  the 
Cabinet  Cyclopa — no,  I  mane  the  Litherary  Chran — 
psha  ! — bluthanowns  ! — say  it's  Docthor  Dioclesian 
Larner — I  think  hell  know  me  now — ay,  Nid  ?"  But 
the  genlmn  called  Nid  was  at  the  botm  of  the  stare, 
and  pretended  to  be  very  busy  with  his  shoo-string.  So 
the  little  genlmn  went  up  stares  alone. 

"Doctor  Diolesh  s  Larner!"  says  I. 

"Doctor   Athanasius    Lardner !"    says   Greville 


MR.    YELLOW  PU  Mi's    AJEW.  179 

Fitz-Roy,    our  secknd  footman,   on  the  fust   landing- 
place. 

"  BOCtOr  KgltcltfUS  SLOgOUl  !"  says  the  groom 
of  the   ehambers,  who  pretends  to  be  a  schollar ;  and 
in  the  little  genlmn  went.     When  safely  housed,   the 
other  chap  came ;    and  when  I  asked  him   his  name, 
said,  in  a  thick,  gobbling  kind  of  voice  : 
"  Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig." 
"  Sir  what  ?"  says  I,  quite  agast  at  the  name. 
"  Sawedwad — no,  T  mean  Mistawedwad  Lyttn  Bul- 
wig." 

My  neas  trembled  under  me,  my  i's  fild  with  tiers, 
my  voice  shook,  as  I  past  up  the  venrabble  name  to  the 
other  footman,  and  saw  this  fust  of  English  writers  go 
up  to  the  drawing-room ! 

It's  needless  to  mention  the  names  of  the  rest  of  the 
coinpny,  or  to  dixcribe  the  suckmstansies  of  the  dinner. 
Suffiz  to  say  that  the  two  littery  gelmn  behaved  very 
well,  and  seamed  to  have  good  appytights  ;  igspecially 
the  little  Irishman  in  the  Whig,  who  et,  drunk,  and 
talked  as  much  as  £  a  duzn.  He  told  how  he'd  been 
presented  at  cort  by  his  friend,  Mr.  Bulwig,  and  how 
the  quean  had  received  'em  both  with  a  dignaty  undig- 
scribable,  and  how  her  blessid  majisty  asked  what  was 
the  bony  fidy  sale  of  the  Cabinit  Cyclopaedy,  and  how  he 
(Doctor  Lamer)  told  her  that,  on  his  honner,  it  was  un- 
der ten  thowsnd. 

You  may  gess  that  the  Doctor,  when  he  made  this 
speach,  was  pretty  far  gone.  The  fact  is,  that  whether 
it  was  the  coronation,  or  the  goodness  of  the  wine 
(cappitle  it  is  in  our  house,  /  can  tell  you),  or  the  natral 
propensaties  of  the  gests  assembled,  which   made  them 


180  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


so  igspecially  jolly,  I  don't  know,  but  they  had  kep  up 
the  meating  pretty  late,  and  our  poar  butler  was  quite 
tired  with  the  perpechual  baskits  of  clarrit  which  he'd 
been  called  upon  to  bring  up.  So  that  about  1 1  o'clock, 
if  I  were  to  say  they  were  merry,  I  should  use  a  mild 
term ;  if  I  wer  to  say  they  were  intawsicated,  I  should 
use  an  igspresshn  more  near  to  the  truth,  but  less  ris- 
peckful  in  one  of  my  situashn. 

The  cumpany  reseaved  this  annountsmint  with  mute 
extonishment. 

"Pray,  Doctor  Larnder,"  says  a  spiteful  genlmn, 
willing  to  keep  up  the  littery  conversation,"  what  is  the 
Cabinet  Cyclopaedia  ?" 

"  It's  the  littherary  wontherr  of  the  wurrld,"  says  he ; 
"  and  sure  your  lordship  must  have  seen  it ;  the  latther 
numbers  ispicially — cheap  as  durrt,  bound  in  gleezed 
calico,  six  shillings  a  vollum.  The  illusthrious  neems 
of  Waltber  Scott,  Thomas  Moore,  Docther  Southey,  Sir 
James  Mackintosh,  Docther  Donovan,  and  meself,  are 
to  be  found  in  the  list  of  conthributors.  It's  the  Pb  ay- 
nix  of  Cyclopajies — a  litherary  Bacon." 

"  A  what  ?"  says  the  genlmn  nex  to  him. 

"  A  Bacon,  shining  in  the  darkness  of  our  age ;  fild 
wid  the  pure  end  lambent  flame  of  science,  burning  with 
the  gorrgeous  scintillations  of  divine  litherature — a 
monumintum,  in  fact,  are  perinnius,  bound  in  pink 
calico,  six  shillings  a  vollum." 

"  This  wigmawole,"  said  Mr.  Bulwig  (who  seemed 
rather  disgusted  that  his  frend  should  take  up  so  much 
of  the  convassation),  "  Ibis  wigmawole  is  all  vewy  well ; 
but  it's  cuwious  that  you  don't  wemember,  in  chaw- 
actewising  the  litewawy  mevvits  of  the  vawious  maga- 


mr.  yellowplush's  ajkw.  181 

zines,  cwonicles,  weviews,  and  enclycopsedias,  the  ex- 
istence of  a  cwitical  weview  and  litewawy  chwonicle, 
which,  though  the  aewa  of  its  appeawance  is  dated  only 
at  a  vewy  few  months  pwevious  to  the  pwesent  pewiod 
is,  nevertheless,  so  wemarkable  for  its  intwinsic  mewits 
as  to  be  wead,  not  in  the  metwopolis  alone,  but  in  the 
countwy — not  in  Fwance  merely,  but  in  the  west  ot 
Euwope — whewever  our  pure  Wenglish  is  spoken,  it 
stwetches  its  peaceful  sceptre — pewused  in  Amewica, 
fwom  New  York  to  Niagawa — wepwinted  in  Canada, 
fwom  Montweal  to  Towonto — and,  as  I  am  gwatified  to 
hear  fwom  my  fwend  the  governor  of  Cape  Coast 
Castle,  wegularly  weceived  in  Afwica,  and  twanslated 
into  the  Mandingo  language  by  the  missionawies  and  the 
bushwangers.  I  need  not  say,  gentlemen — sir — that  is, 
Mr.  Speaker — I  mean,  Sir  John — that  I  allude  to  the 
Litewawy  Chwonicle,  of  which  I  have  the  honour  to  be 
pwincipal  contwibutor." 

"  Very  true,  my  dear  Mr.  Bull  wig,"  says  my  master  ; 
"  you  and  I  being  Whigs,  must  of  course,  stand  by  our 
own  friends ;  and  I  will  agree,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  that  the  Literary  what-d'ye-callem  is  the 
prince  of  periodicals." 

The  Pwince  of  pewiodicals  ?"  says  Bullwig ;  "  my 
dear  Sir  John,  it's  the  empewow  of  the  pwess." 

"  Soil, — let  it  be  the  emperor  of  the  press,  as  you 
poetically  call  it :  but,  between  ourselves,  confess  it, — 
Do  not  the  Tory  writers  beat  your  Whigs  hollow  ?  You 
talk  about  magazines.     Look  at " 

"  Look  at  hwat  ?"  shouts  out  Larder.  "  There's 
none,  Sir  Jan,  compared  to  ourrs." 

"  Pardon  me,  I  think  that " 


182  THE    YELL0WPUS1I    PAPERS. 

"  It  is  Bentley's  Mislany  you  mane  V '  says  Ignatius, 
as  sharp  as  a  niddle. 

M  Why  no  ;  but " 

"  O  thin,  it's  Co'burn,  sure  ;  and  that  divvle  Thayo 
dor — a  pretty  paper,  sir,  but  light — thrashy,  milk-and 
wathery — not  sthrong,  like  the  Litherary  Chran — good 
luck  to  it," 

"  Why,  Doctor  Lander,  I  was  going  to  tell  a  once 
the  name  of  the  periodical, — it  is  Fraser's  Magazine." 

"  Freser  !"  says  the  Doctor.  "  O  thunder  and 
turf!" 

"  Fwaser  !"  says  Bullwig.  "  0 — ah — hum — haw 
— yes — no — why, — that  is  weally — no,  weally,  upon 
my  weputation,  I  never  before  heard  the  name  of  the 
pewiodical.  By  the  by,  Sir  John,  what  wemarkable 
g(  n  >d  clawet  this  is  ;  is  it  Lawose  or  Laff ?" 

Laff,  indeed  !  he  cooden  git  beyond  laff;  and  I'm 
blest  if  I  could  kip  it  neither, — for  hearing  him  pretend 
iguurnts,  and  being  behind  the  skreend,  settlin  sura- 
think  for  the  genlmn,  I  bust  into  such  a  raw  of  laffing 
as  never  was  igseeded. 

"  Hullo !"  says  Bullwig,  turning  red.  "  Have  I 
said  any  thing  impwobable,  aw  widiculous  ?  for,  weally, 
I  never  befaw  wecollect  to  have  heard  in  society  such  a 
twemendous  peal  of  cachinnation, — that  which  the 
twagic  bard  who  fought  at  Mawathon  has  called  an 
arte  withmon  gelasma." 

"Why,  be  the  holy  piper,"  says  Larder,  "1  think 
you  are  dthrawing  a  little  on  your  imagination.  Not 
read  Fraser!  Don't  believe  him,  my  lord  duke;  he 
reads  every  word  of  it,  the  rogue!  The  boys  about 
that  magazine  baste  him  as  if  he  was  a  sack  ofoatmale. 


MR.   Yi:i.i.ii\vi'i.rsii's   a.ikw.  183 

My  reason  for  crying  out,  Sir  Jan,  was  because  you 
mintioned  Fraser  at  all.  Bullwig  has  every  syllable  of 
it  be  heart — from  the  pallitix  down  to  the  '  Yellow- 
plush  Correspondence.'" 

"  Ha,  ha  !"  says  Bullwig,  affecting  to  latf  (you  may 
be  sure  my  years  prickt  up  when  I  heard  the  name  of 
the  '  Yellowplush  Correspondence').  "  Ha,  ha  !  why, 
to  tell  twuth,  I  have  wead  the  cowespondence  to  -which 
you  allude  ;  it's  a  gweat  favowite  at  court.  I  was  talk- 
ing with  Spwing  Wice  and  John  Wussell  about  it  the 
other  day." 

"  Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?"  says  Sir 
John,  looking  mity  waggish, — for  he  knew  it  was  me 
who  roat  it. 

"  Why,  weally  and  twnly,  there's  considewable 
cleverness  about  the  cweature  ;  but  it's  low,  disgustingly 
low  :  it  violates  pwobability,  and  the  orthogwaphy  is  so 
carefully  inaccuwate,  that  it  requires  a  positive  study  to 
compwehend  it." 

"  Yes,  faith,"  says  Lamer,  the  arthagraphy  is  de- 
tistible;  it's  as  bad  for  a  man  to  write  bad  spillin  as  it 
is  for 'em  to  speak  wid  a  brrouge.  Iducation  furst, 
and  ganitts  afterwards.  Your  health,  my  lord,  and 
good  luck  to  you." 

"  Yaw  wemark,"  says  Bullwig,  "  is  vewy  appwo- 
pwiate.  You  will  wecollect,  Sir  John,  in  Hewodotus 
(as  for  von,  doctor,  you  know  more  about  Iwish  than 
about  Gweek), — you  will  recollect,  without  doubt,  a 
stowy  nawwated  by  that  cwedulous  though  fascinating 
chwonicler,  of  a  certain  kind  of  sheep  which  is  known 
only  in  a  certain  distwici  of  A.wabia,  ami  of  which  the 
tail    is    v,,    enormous,  that   it    either   dwao-cdes  on    the 


184  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

gwound,  or  is  bound  up  by  the  shepherds  of  the  country 
into  a  small  wheelbawwow,  or  cart,  which  makes  the 
chwonicler  sneewingly  wemark,  that  thus  '  the  sheep  of 
Awal  lia  have  their  own  chawiots.'  I  have  often  thought, 
sir  (this  clawet  is  weally  nectaweous) — I  have  often,  I 
say,  thought  that  the  wace  of  man  may  be  compawed 
to  these  Awabian  sheep — genius  is  our  tail,  education 
our  wheelbawwow.  Without  art  and  education  to 
pwop  it,  this  genius  dwops  on  the  gwound,  and  is  pol- 
luted by  the  mud,  or  injured  by  the  wocks  upon  the 
way :  with  the  wheelbawwow  it  is  stwengthened,  in- 
cweased,  and  supported — a  pwide  to  the  owner,  a  bless- 
ing to  mankind." 

"  A  very  appropriate  simile,"  says  Sir  John  ;  "  and 
I  am  afraid  that  the  genius  of  our  friend  Yellowplush 
has  need  of  some  such  support." 

"  Apropos"  said  Bullwig  ;  "  who  is  Yellowplush  ?  I 
was  given  to  understand  that  the  name  was  only  a 
fictitious  one,  and  that  the  papers  were  written  by  the 
author  of  the  Diary  of  a  Physician  ;  if  so,  the  man 
has  wonderfully  improved  in  style,  and  there  is  some 
hope  of  him." 

"Bah!"  says  the  Duke  of  Doublejowl;  "every 
body  knows  it's  Barnard,  the  celebrated  author  of  'Sam 
Slick.' w 

"Pardon,  my  dear  duke,"  says  Lord  Bagwig;  "it's 
the  authoress  of  High  Life,  Almacks,  and  other  fashion- 
able novels." 

"  Fiddlestick's  end  !"  says  Doctor  Larner ;  "  don't 
be  blushing,  and  pretinding  to  ask  questions:  don't  we 
know  you,  Bullwig  !  If-  you  yourself,  you  thief  of  the 
world  ;  we  smoked  you  from  thn  very  beginning." 


mk.  yellowplush's  ajew.  185 

Bulhvig  was  about  indignantly  to  reply,  when  Sir 
John  interrupted  them,  and  said, — "  I  must  correct  you 
all,  gettlenien  ;  Mr.  Yellowplush  is  no  other  than  Mr. 
Yellowplush  :  he  gave  you,  my  dear  Bulhvig,  your  last 
glass  of  champagne  at  dinner,  and  is  now  an.inmate  of 
my  house,  and  an  ornament  of  my  kitchen  !" 

"  Gad  !"  says  Doublejowl,  "  let's  have  him  up." 

"  Hear,  hear !"  says  Bagwig. 

"  Ah,  now,"  says  Lamer,  "  your  grace  is  not  going 
to  call  up  and  talk  to  a  footman,  sure  ?     Is  it  gintale  V 

"  To  say  the  least  of  it,"  says  Bulhvig,  "  the  pwac- 
tice  is  iwwegular,  and  indecowous ;  and  I  weally  don't 
see  how  the  interview  can  be  in  any  way  pwofitable." 

But  the  vices  of  the  company  went  against  the  two 
littery  men,  and  every  body  excep  them  was  for  having 
up  poor  me.  The  bell  was  wrung ;  butler  came. 
"  Send  up  Charles,"  says  master ;  and  Charles,  who 
was  standing  behind  the  skreand,  was  persnly  abliged 
to  come  in. 

"  Charles,"  says  master,  "  I  have  been  telling  these 
gentlemen  who  is  the  author  of  the  '  Yellowplush  Cor- 
respondence,' in  Fraser's  Magazine." 

"  It's  the  best  magazine  in  Europe,"  says  the  duke. 

"  And  no  mistake,"  says  my  lord. 

"  Hwat !"  says  Lamer  ;  "  and  where's  the  Litherary 
Chran  V 

I  said  myself  nothink,  but  made  a  bough,  and  blusht 
like  pickle  cabbitch. 

"  Mr.  Yellowplush,"  says  his  grace,  "  will  you,  in 
the  first  place^  drink  a  glass  of  wine  ?" 

I  boughed  agin. 


186  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"And  what  wine  Jo  you  prefer,  sir?  bumble  port 
or  imperial  burgundy  I" 

"  Why,  your  grace,"  says  I,  "  I  know  my  place,  and 
aim  above  kite-bin  wines.  I  will  take  a  glass  of  port, 
and  drink  it  to  the  health  of  this  honrabble  compny." 

When  I'<1  swigged  off  the  bumper,  which  his  grace 
himself  did  me  the  honour  to  pour  out  for  me,  there 
was  a  silints  for  a  minnit ;  when  my  master  said  : 

"  Charles  Yellowplush,  I  have  perused  your  me- 
moirs in  Frascr's  M<t<jnzlue  with  so  much  curiosity,  and 
have  so  high  an  opinion  of  your  talents  as  a  writer,  that 
I  really  cannot  keep  you  as  a  footman  any  longer,  or 
allow  yon  to  discharge  duties  for  which  you  are  now 
quite  unfit.  With  all  my  admiration  for  your  talents, 
Mr.  Yellowplush,  I  still  am  confident  that  many  of  your 
friends  in  the  servants'  hall  will  clean  my  boots  a  great 
deal  better  than  a  gentleman  of  your  genius  can  ever  be 
expected  to  do — it  is  for  this  purpose  that  I  employ 
footmen,  and  not  that  they  may  be  writing  articles  in 
magazines.  But — you  need  not  look  so  red,  my  good 
fellow,  and  had  better  take  another  glass  of  port — I 
don't  wish  to  throw  you  upon  the  wide  world  without 
means  of  a  livelihood,  and  have  made  interest  for  a  little 
place  which  you  will  have  under  government,  and  which 
will  give  you  an  income  of  eighty  pounds  per  annum, 
which  you  can  double,  I  presume,  by  your  literary 
labours." 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  clasping  my  hands,  and  busting  into 
tears,  "  do  not — for  Heaven's  sake,  do  not ! — think  of 
any  such  think,  or  drive  me  from  your  suwice,  because 
I  have  been  fool  enough  to  write  in  majjaseens.  Glans 
bst  one  moment  at  your  honor's  plate — every  spoon  i> 


MR.    YELLOW  I'H'Sll's     AJEW.  187 

as  bright  as  a  mirror  ;  condysend  to  igsamine  your 
shoes — your  honour  may  see  reflected  in  them  the 
fases  of  every  one  in  the  compny.  /  blacked  them 
shoes,  /  cleaned  that  there  plate.  If  occasionally  I've 
forgot  the  footman  in  the  litterary  man,  and  committed 
to  paper  my  remindicencies  of  fashnabble  life,  it  was 
from  a  sincere  desire  to  do  good,  and  promote  nollitch : 
and  I  appeal  to  your  honour, — I  lay  my  hand  on  my 
busm,  and  in  the  fase  of  this  noble  company  beg  you 
to  say.  When  you  rung  your  bell,  who  came  to  you 
fust  '  "When  you  stopt  out  at  Brooke's  till  morning, 
who  sate  up  for  you  ?  When  you  was  ill,  who  forgot 
the  natral  dignities  of  his  station,  and  answered  the 
two-pair  bell  ?  0,  sir,"  says  I,  "  I  know  what's  what ; 
don't  send  me  away.  I  know  them  littery  chaps,  and, 
bleave  me,  I'd  rather  be  a  footman.  The  work's  not  so 
hard — the  pay  is  better :  the  vittels  incompyrably 
supearor.  I  have  but  to  clean  my  things,  and  run  my 
errints,  and  you  put  clothes  on  my  back,  and  meat  in 
my  mouth.  Sir!  Mr.  Bullwig!  an't  I  right?  shall  I 
rpiit  my  station  and  sink — that  is  to  say,  rise — to 
yours." 

Bullwig  was  violently  affected  ;  a  tear  stood  in  his 
glistening  i.  "  Yellowplush,"  says  he,  seizing  my  hand, 
"  you  are  right.  Quit  not  your  present  occupation ; 
black  boots,  clean  knives,  wear  plush,  all  your  life,  but 
don't  turn  literary  man.  Look  at  me.  I  am  the  first 
novelist  in  Europe.  I  have  ranged  with  eagle  wing 
over  the  wide  regions  of  literature,  and  perched  on 
every  eminence  in  its  turn.  I  have  gazed  with  eagle 
eye  on  the  sun  of  philosophy,  and  fathomed  the  mys- 
terious depths  of  the  human  mind.     All  languages  are 


188  THE    JTEJLLOWPLUSH    PAPER8. 

familiar  to  me,  all  thoughts  are  known  to  me,  all  meu 
understood  by  me.  I  have  gathered  wisdom  from  the 
honeyed  lips  of  Plato,  as  we  wandered  in  the  gardens 
of  Acadames — wisdom,  too,  from  the  mouth  of  Job 
Johnson,  as  we  smoked  our  'backy  in  Seven  Dials. 
Such  must  be  the  studies,  and  such  is  the  mission,  in 
this  world,  of  the  Poet-Philosopher.  But  the  know- 
ledge is  only  emptiness  ;  the  initiation  is  but  misery  ; 
the  initiated,  a  man  shunned  and  bann'd  by  his  fellows. 
O,"  said  Bullwig,  clasping  his  hands,  and  throwing  his 
fine  i's  up  to  the  chandelier,  "  the  curse  of  Pwome- 
theus  descends  upon  his  wace.  Wath  and  punishment 
pursue  them  from  genewation  to  genewation  !  Wo  to 
genius,  the  heaven-sealer,  the  fire-stealer !  Wo  and 
thrice  bitter  desolation  !  Earth  is  the  wock  on  which 
Zeus,  wemorseless,  stwetches  his  withing  victim — men, 
the  vultures  that  feed  and  fatten  on  him.  Ai,  Ai !  it  is 
agony  eternal — gwoaning  and  solitawy  despair !  And 
you,  Yellowplush,  would  penetwate  these  mystewies  ; 
you  would  waise  the  awful  veil,  and  stand  in  the  twe- 
mendous  Pwesence.  Beware ;  as  you  value  your 
peace,  beware !  Withdwaw,  wash  Neophyte !  For 
Heaven's  sake — O,  for  Heaven's  sake  ! — "  here  he 
looked  round  with  agony — "  give  me  a  glass  of  bwandy 
and  water,  for  this  clawet  is  beginning  to  disagwee 
with  me." 

Bullwig  having  concluded  this  spitch,  very  much  to 
his  own  sattasfackskn,  looked  round  to  the  compny  for 
aplaws,  and  then  swigged  off  the  glass  of  brandy  and 
water,  giving  a  solium  sigh  as  he  took  the  last  gulph  ; 
and  then  Doctor  Ignatius,  who  longed  for  a  chans,  and, 
in  order  to  shew  his  independence,  began  flatly  contra- 


mr.   itellowplush's   A.IKW.  189 

dieting-  his  friend,  and  addressed  me,  and  the  rest  of  the 
genlmn  present,  in  the  following  manner: — 

"  Hark  ye,"  says  he,  "  my  gossoon,  doant  be  led 
asthray  by  the  nonsince  of  that  divl  of  a  Bulhvig. 
He's  jillous  of  ye,  my  bhoy  ;  that's  the  rale,  undoubted 
thruth  ;  and  it's  only  to  keep  you  out  of  litherary  life 
that  he's  palavering  you  in  this  way  :  I'll  tell  ye  what 
— Plush,  ye  blackguard, — my  honorable  frind,  the  num- 
ber there,  has  told  me  a  bunder  times  by  the  smallest 
computation  of  his  intinse  admiration  for  your  talents, 
and  the  wontherful  sthir  they  were  making  in  the 
worlld.  He  can't  bear  a  rival.  He's  mad  with  envy, 
hathred,  oncharatableness.  Look  at  him,  Plush,  and 
look  at  me.  My  father  was  not  a  juke  exackly,  nor 
aven  a  markis,  and  see,  nevertheliss,  to  what  a  pitch  I 
am  come.  I  spare  no  ixpinse  ;  I'm  the  iditor  of  a  cople 
of  pariodicals ;  I  dthrive  about  in  me  carridge  ;  I  dine  wid 
the  lords  of  the  land  ;  and  why — in  the  name  of  the  piper 
that  pleed  before  Mosus,  hwy  ?  Because  I'm  litherary 
man.  Because  I  know  how  to  play  me  cards.  Because 
I'm  Docther  Larner,  in  fact,  and  mimber  of  every  society 
in  and  out  of  Europe.  I  might  have  remained  all  my 
life  in  Thrinity  Colledge,  and  never  made  such  an  in- 
com  as  that  offered  you  by  Sir  Jan ;  but  I  came  to 
London — to  London,  my  boy,  and  now,  see !  Look 
again  at  me  friend,  Bull  wig.  He  is  a  gentleman,  to  be 
sure,  and  bad  luck  to  'im,  say  I ;  and  what  has  been 
the  result  of  his  litherary  labour  ?  I'll  tell  you  what, 
and  I'll  tell  this  gintale  society,  by  the  shade  of  Saint 
Patrick,  they're  going  to  make  him  a  barinet." 

"  A  Barxet,  Doctor !"  says  I ;  "  you  don't  mean 
to  say  they're  going  to  make  him  a  barnet  ?" 


190  THE    YELL0WPLU8H    PAPERS. 

"As  sure  as  I've  made  meself  a  docthor,"  says  Lamer. 

"  "What,  a  baronet,  like  Sir  John  ?" 

"  The  divle  a  bit  else." 

"And  pray  what  for  ?" 

"  What  taw  !"  says  Bullwig.  "Ask  the  histowy  of 
litewatuwe  what  faw  ?  Ask  Colburn,  ask  Bentley,  ask 
Saunders  and  Otley,  ask  the  gweat  Bwitish  nation, 
what  law  I  The  blood  in  my  veins  comes  puwified 
thwough  ten  thousand  years  of  chivalwous  ancestwy  ; 
but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there :  my  political  prin- 
ciples— the  equal  wights  which  I  have  advocated — the 
gweat  cause  of  fweedom  that  I  have  celebwated,  are 
known  to  all.  But  this,  I  confess,  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  question.  No,  the  question  is  this — on  the 
thwone  of  litewature  I  stand  unwivalled,  pwe-eminent ; 
and  the  Bwitish  government,  honowing  genius  in  me, 
compliments  the  Bwitish  nation  by  lifting  into  the 
bosom  of  the  heweditawy  nobility,  the  most  gifted 
member  of  the  democwacy."  (The  honrabble  genlm 
here  sunk  down  amidst  repeated  chairs.) 

"  Sir  John,"  says  I,  "  and  my  lord  duke,  the  words 
of  my  revrint  frend,  Ignatius,  and  the  remarks  of  the 
honrabble  genlmn  who  has  just  sate  down,  have  made 
me  chancre  the  detummination  which  I  had  the  honor 
of  igspressing  just  now. 

"  I  igsept  the  eighty  pound  a-year  ;  knowing  that  I 
shall  have  plenty  of  time  for  pursuing  my  littery  cereer, 
and  hoping  some  day  to  set  on  that  same  benteh  <>f 
barranites,  which  is  deckarated  by  the  presnts  of  my 
honrabble  friend. 

"Why  shooden  I?  It's  trew  I  aint  done  anythink 
as  ye^to  deserve  such  an  honor  ;  and  it's  very  probable 


MR.     VKLLOW  I'LLSll's     A.fKU.  191 

that  I  never  shall.  But  what  then  ? — quaio  dong,  as 
our  friends  say.  I'd  much  rayther  have  a  coat  of  .inns 
than  a  coat  of  livry.  I'd  much  rayther  have  my  blud- 
red  hand  spralink  in  the  middle  of  a  shield,  than  under- 
neath a  tea-tray.  A  barranit  I  will  be,  and,  in  con- 
squints,  must  cease  to  be  a  footmin. 

"As  to  my  politticle  princepills,  these,  I  confess, 
aint  settled  :  they  are,  I  know,  nessary  ;  but  they  aint 
aessary  until  askt  for ;  besides,  I  reglar  read  the  Sat- 
tarist  newspaper,  and  so  ignirince  on  this  pint  would  be 
inigscusable. 

"But  if  one  man  can  git  to  be  a  doctor,  and 
another  a  barranit,  and  another  a  capting  in  the 
navy,  and  another  a  countess,  and  another  the 
wife  of  a  governor  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  I  begin 
to  perseave  that  the  littery  trade  aint  such  a  very  bad 
un  ;  igspecially  if  you're  up  to  snough,  and  know  what's 
o'clock.  I'll  learn  to  make  myself  usefle,  in  the  fust 
place  ;  then  I'll  larn  to  spell ;  and,  I  trust,  by  reading 
the  novvles  of  the  honrabble  member,  and  the  scienta- 
fick  treatiseses  of  the  revrend  doctor,  I  may  find  the 
secrit  of  suxess,  and  git  a  litell  for  my  own  share.  I've 
sevral  frends  in  the  press,  having  paid  for  many  of  those 
chaps'  drink,  and  given  them  other  treets ;  and  so  I 
think  I've  got  all  the  emilents  of  suxess  ;  therefore,  I 
am  detummined,  as  I  said,  to  igsept  your  kind  offer, 
and  beg  to  withdraw  the  wuds  which  I  made  yous  of 
when  I  refyoused  your  hoxpatable  offer.  I  must,  how- 
ever  " 

"  I  wish  you'd  withdraw  yourself,"  said  Sir  John, 
busting  into  a  mot  igsjtrorinary  rage,*"  and  not  inter- 
rupt the  eompany  with  your  infernal  talk!     Go  down, 


1U2  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

and  get  us  coffee ;  and,  heark  ye  !  hold  your  imperti- 
nent tongue,  or  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body. 
You  shall  have  the  place,  as  I  said  ;  and  while  you're 
in  my  service,  you  shall  be  my  servant ;  but  you  don't 
stay  in  my  service  after  to-morrow.     Go  down  stairs, 

sir  ;  and  don't  stand  staring  here  !" 

***** 

In  this  abrupt  way,  my  evening  ended  :  it's  with  a 
melanchely  regret  that  I  think  what  came  of  it.  I 
don't  wear  plush  any  more.  I  am  an  altered,  a  wiser, 
and,  I  trust,  a  better  man. 

I'm  about  a  nowle  (having  made  great  progriss  in 
spelling),  in  the  style  of  my  friend  Bullwig  ;    and  pre- 
paring  for  publigation,  in   the  Doctor's    Cyclopedear, 
The  Lives  of  Eminent  Brittish   and  Foring  Washer- 
women. 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  193 


EPISTLES  TO  THE  LITERATI. 

CH-S    Y-LL-WPT.-SII,  ESQ.    TO    SIR   EDWARD    LYTTON    BULWER,    BT. 
JOHN    THOMAS   SMITH,    ESQ.    TO   0 S   Y II,    ESQ. 

NOTU8. 

The  suckmstansies  of  the  following  harticle  are  as  folios  : 
— Me  and  my  friend,  the  sellabrated  Mr.  Smith,  recko- 
nised  each  other  in  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  during  the 
paformints  of  the  new  play.  I  was  settn  in  the  gallery, 
and  sung  out  to  him  (he  was  in  the  pit),  to  jine  us  after 
the  play,  over  a  glass  of  bear  and  a  cold  hoyster,  in  my 
pantry,  the  famly  being  out. 

Smith  came  as  appinted.  We  descorsed  on  the  sub- 
jicfe  of  the  comady ;  and,  after  sefral  glases,  we  each  of 
us  agread  to  write  a  letter  to  the  other,  giving  our  no- 
tiums  of  the  pease.  Paper  was  brought  that  momint ; 
and  Smith  writing  his  harticle  across  the  knife-bord,  I 
dasht  off  mine  on  the  dresser. 

Our  agreement  was,  that  I  (being  remarkabble  for 
my  style  of  riting)  should  cretasize  the  languidge, 
whilst  he  should  take  up  with  the  plot  of  the  play ; 
ami  tli»:  candied  reader  will  parding  me  for  ha\ing  hol- 
tered  the  original  address  of  my  letter,  and  directed  it 
to  Sir  Edward  himself;  anil  tor  having  incopperated 
Smith's  remarks  in  the  midst  of  my  own. 


194  THE    YEU.OWI'I.ISH    PAPERS. 

May/air,  Nov.  30,  1839.  Midnite. 

Honrabble  Barnet ! — Retired  from  the  littery  world 
a  year  or  raoar,  I  didn't  think  anythink  would  injuice 
me  to  come  forrards  again  ;  for  I  was  content  with  my 
share  of  reputation,  and  propoas'd  to  add  nothink  to 
those  immortial  wux  which  have  rendered  this  Maga- 
seen  so  sallybrated. 

Shall  I  tell  you  the  reazn  of  my  re-appearants  ? — a 
desire  for  the  benefick  of  my  fellow-creatures  ?  Fiddle- 
stick !  A  mighty  truth  with  which  my  busm  laboured, 
and  which  I  must  bring  forth  or  die  ?  Nonsince — stuff: 
money's  the  secret,  my  dear  Barnet, — money — Vargong, 
gelt,  spicunia.  Here's  quarter-day  coming,  and  I'm  blest 
if  I  can  pay  my  landlud,  unless  I  can  ad  hartificially  to 
my  inkum. 

This  is,  however,  betwigst  you  and  me.  There's  no 
need  to  blacard  the  streets  with  it,  or  to  tell  the  British 
public  that  Fitzroy   Y-11-wpl-sh  is  short  of  money,  or 

that  the  sallybrated  hauthor  of  the  Y Papers  is  in 

peskewniary  diffieklties,  or  is  fiteagued  by  his  superhu- 
man littery  labors,  or  by  his  famly  suckmstansies,  or  by 
any  other  pusnal  matter  :  my  maxim,  dear  B,  is  on 
these  pints  to  be  as  quiet  as  posbile.  What  the  juice 
does  the  public  care  for  you  or  me  ?  Why  must  we  al- 
ways, in  prefizzes  and  what  not,  be  a  talking  about  our- 
selves and  our  igstrodnary  merrats,  woas,  and  injaries? 
It  is  on  this  subjick  that  I  porpies,  my  dear  Barnet,  to 
speak  to  you  in  a  frendly  way ;  and  praps  you'll  find 
my  advise  tolrabbly  holesum. 

Well,  then, — if  you  care  about  the  apinions,  fur 
good  or  evil,  of  us  poor  suvvants,  I  tell  you,  in  the  most 
candied  way.  f  like  you,  Barnet.     Pve  had  my  Sing  at 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  195 

you  in  my  day  (for,  entry  nou,  that  lasl  stoary  I  roat 
about  vou  and  Larmier  was  as  big  a  bownsir  as  evei 
Was) — I've  had  my  fling  at  you  ;  but  I  like  you.  One 
mayobjeck  to  an  immence  deal  of  your  writings,  which, 
betwigst  you  and  me,  contain  more  sham  scentiment, 
sham  morallaty,  sham  poatry,  than  you'd  like  to  own  ; 
but,  in  spite  of  this,  there's  the  stuf  in  you  :  you've  a 
kind  and  loyal  heart  in  you,  Barnet — a  trifle  deboshed, 
perhaps;  a  kean  i,  igspecially  for  what's  comic  (as  for 
your  tradgady,  it's  mighty  fiatchulent),  and  a  ready 
plesnt  pen.  The  man  who  says  you  are  an  As  is  an 
As  himself.  Don't  believe  him,  Barnet ;  not  that  I  sup- 
pose you  wil, — for,  if  I've  formed  a  correct  apinion  of 
you  from  your  wueks,  you  think  your  small-beear  as 
good  as  most  men's  :  every  man  does, — and  why  not  ? 
We  brew,  and  we  love  our  own  tap — amen;  but  the 
pint  betwigst  us,  is  this  stewpid,  absudd  way  of  crying 
out,  because  the  public  don't  like  it  too.  Why  shood 
they,  my  dear  Barnet  \  You  may  vow  that  they  are 
fools  ;  or  that  the  critix  are  your  enemies ;  or  that  the 
wuld  should  judge  your  poams  by  your  erittiele  rules, 
and  not  their  own  :  you  may  beat  your  breast,  and  vow 
you  are  a  marter,  and  you  won't  mend  the  matter. 
Take  heart,  man  !  you're  not  so  misrabble  after  all; 
your  spirits  need  not  be  so  very  cast  down  ;  you  are  not 
so  very  badly  paid.  I'd  lay  a  wager  that  you  make, 
with  one  thing  or  another — plays,  novvles,  pamphlicks, 
and  little  odd  jobbs  here  and  there — your  three  thow- 
snd  a-year.  There's  many  a  man.  dear  Bullwig,  that 
works  for  less,  and  lives  content.  Why  shouldn't  you  \ 
Three  thowsnd  a-year  is  no  such  bad  thing, — l<-t  alone 


196  THE  YELLOWl'U  SH  PAPERS, 

the  barnetcy  i  it  musf  be  :i  great  comfort  to  Lave  that 
bloody  hand  in  your  -kitching. 

But  don't  you  sea,  that  in  a  wuld  naturally  enviuB, 
wickid,  and  fond  of  a  joak,  this  very  barnetcy,  these 
very  cumplaints. — this  ceaseless  groning,  and  moning, 
and  wining  of  yours,  is  igsackly  the  thing  which  makes 
people  laff  and  snear  more  ?  If  you  were  ever  at  a 
great  school,  you  must  recklect  who  was  the  boy  most 
bullid,  and  bufiitid,  and  purshewd — he  who  minded  it 
most.  He  who  could  take  a  basting  got  but  few  ;  he 
who  rord  and  wep  because  the  knotty  boys  called  him 
nickname-,  was  nicknamed  wuss  and  wuss.  I  recklect 
there  was  at  our  school,  in  Smithfield,  a  chap  of  this 
milksop,  spoony  sort,  who  appeared  among  the  romp- 
ing, ragged  fellers  in  a  fine  planning  dressing-go w ml, 
thai  his  mama  had  given  him.  That  pore  boy  was 
beaten  in  a  way  that  his  dear  ma  and  aunts  didn't  know 
him  :  his  fine  flannintr  dressinf{-irowiid  was  torn  all  to 
ribbings,  and  he  got  no  pease  in  the  school  ever  after, 
but  was  abliged  to  be  taken  to  some  other  saminary, 
where,  I  make  no  doubt,  he  was  paid  off  igsactly  in  the 
same  way. 

Do  you  take  the  kalligory,  my  dear  Baraet  ? 
Mutayto  nominy — you  know  what  1  mean.  You  are 
the  boy,  and  your  barnetcy  is  the  dressing-gownd. 
You  dress  yourself  out  finer  than  other  chaps,  and  they 
all  begin  to  sault  and  hustle  you;  it's  human  nature, 
Barnet.  You  shew  weakness,  think  of  your  dear  ma, 
mayhap,  and  begin  to  cry :  it's  all  over  with  you;  the 
whole  school  is  at  you — upper  boys  and  under,  big  and 
little;  the  dirtiest  Little  fag  in  the  place  will  pipe  out, 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  197 

blagi;erd  names  at  you,  and  take  his  pevi  ny  tug  at  your 
tail. 

The  only  way  to  avoid  such  conspiracies  is  to  put 
a  pair  of  stowt  shoalders  forrards,  and  bust  through 
the  crowd  of  raggymuffins.  A  good  bold  fellow  dubls 
his  fistt,  and  cries,  "Wha  dares  meddle  wi'  me?" 
When  Scott  got  his  barnetcy,  for  instans,  did  any  one 
of  us  cry  out  ?  No,  by  the  laws,  he  was  our  master  ; 
and  wo  betide  the  chap  that  said  neigh  to  him  !  But 
there's  barnets  and  barnets.  Do  you  recklect  that  tine 
chapter  in  Squintin  Durivard,  about  the  too  fellos  and 
cups,  at  the  siege  of  the  bishop's  castle  ?  One  of  them 
was  a  brave  warrier,  and  kep  his  cup  ;  they  strangled 
the  other  chap — strangled  him,  and  lafled  at  him  too. 

With  respeck,  then,  to  the  barnetcy  pint,  this  is 
ray  advice;  brazen  it  out.  Us  littery  men  I  take  to 
be  like  a  pack  of  schoolboys— childish,  greedy,  envius, 
holding  by  our  Mends,  and  always  ready  to  fight. 
What  must  be  a  man's  conduck  among  such?  He 
must  cither  take  no  notis,  and  pas-  on  myjastick,  or 
alse  turn  round  and  pummle  soundly — one,  two,  right 
and  left,  ding  dong  over  the  face  and  eyes;  above  all, 
never  acknowledge  that  he  is  hurt.  Years  ago,  for 
instans  (we've  no  ill  blood,  but  only  mention  this  by 
way  of  igsample),  you  began  a  sparring  with  this  Mag- 
aseen.  Law  bless  you  such  a  ridicklus  gaym  I  never 
see :  a  man  so  belaybord,  beflustered,  bewTolloped,  was 
never  known  ;  it  was  the  laff  of  the  whole  town. 
ifour  intelackshal  natur,  respected  Barnet,  is  not  fiz- 
zickly  adapted,  so  to  speak,  for  encounters  of  this  sort. 
You  must  not  indulge  in  combats  with  us  course  bul- 


198  THE    YKI.I.oWPU  su    PAPERS. 

lies  of  the  press  ;  you  have  not  the  staminy  for  a  reglar 
set-to.  What,  then,  is  your  plan?  In  the  midst  of 
the  moh  to  pasf  as  quiet  as  you  can;  you  won't  be 
undistubbed.  Who  is?  Some  stray  kix  and  buffi ts 
will  fall  to  you — mortial  man  is  subjick  to  such;  but 
if  you  begin  to  wins  and  cry  out,  and  set  up  for  a 
marter,  wo  betide  you  ! 

These  remarks,  pusnal  as  I  confess  them  to  be,  are 
yet,  1  assure  you,  written  in  perfick  good-natur,  and 
have  been  inspired  by  your  play  of  the  Sea  Captiny, 
and  prefix  to  it ;  which  latter  is  on  matters  intirely 
pusnall,  and  will,  therefore,  I  trust,  igscuse  this  kind  of 
ad  liniiiimiiii  (as  they  say)  diskcushion.  I  propose,  hon- 
rabble  Barnit,  to  cumsider  calmly  this  play  and  prephiz, 
and  to  speak  of  both  with  that  honisty  which,  in  the 
pantry  or  studdy,  I've  been  always  phamous  for.  Let 
us,  in  the  first  place,  listen  to  the  opening  of  the  "  Pre- 
face to  the  Fourth  Edition  :" 

"  No  one  caD  be  more  sensible  than  I  am  of  the  many 
faults  and  deficiencies  to  be  found  in  this  play;  but,  perhaps, 
when  it  is  considered  how  very  rarely  it  has  happened  in  the 
history  of  our  dramatic  literature  that  good  acting  plays  Lave 
been  produced,  except  by  those  who  have  either  been  actors 
themselves,  or  formed  their  habits  of  literature,  almost  of  life, 
behind  ihe  scenes,  I  might  have  looked  for  a  criticism  more 
sencrous,  and  less  exacting  and  rigorous,  than  that  which  the 
attempts  of  an  author  accustomed  to  another  class  of  compo- 
sition have  been  received  by  a  large  proportion  of  the  periodi- 
cal press. 

"It  is  scarcely  possible,  indeed,  that  this  play  should  not 
contain  faults  of  two  kind-:  tir.-t,  the  faults  of  one  who  has 
necessarily  much  to  learn  in  the  mechanism  of  his  art:  and, 
secondly,  of  one  who,  having  written  largely  in  the  narrative 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  199 

style  of  fiction,  may  not  unfrequcntly  mistake  the  effects  of  a 
novel  for  the  effects  of  a  drama.  I  may  add  to  these,  perhaps, 
the  deficiencies  that  arise  from  uncertain  health  and  broken 
spirits,  which  render  the  author  more  susceptible  than  he  might 
have  been  some  years  since  to  that  spirit  of  depreciation  and 
hostility  which  it  has  been  his  misfortune  to  excite  amongsl  the 
general  contributors  to  the  periodical  press;  for  the  conscious- 
ness that  every  endeavour  will  be  made  to  cavil,  to  distort,  to 
misrepresent,  and,  in  fine,  if  possible,  to  run  down,  will  occa- 
sionally haunt  even  the  hours  of  composition,  to  check  the  in- 
spiration, and  damp  the  ardour. 

"  Having  confessed  thus  much  frankly  and  fairly,  and  with 
a  hope  that  I  may  ultimately  do  better,  should  I  continue  to 
write  for  the  stage  (which  nothing  but  an  assurance  that,  with 
all  my  defects,  I  may  yet  bring  some  little  aid  to  the  drama,  at 
a  time  when  any  aid,  however  humble,  ought  to  be  welcome  to 
the  lovers  of  the  art,  could  induce  me  to  do),  may  I  be  per- 
mitted to  say  a  few  words  as  to  some  of  the  objections  which 
have  been  made  against  this  play  I" 

Now,  my  dear  sir,  look  what  a  pretty  number  of 
please  you  put  forrards  here,  why  your  play  shouldn't 
be  good. 

First.  Good  plays  are  almost  always  written  by 
actors. 

Secknd.  You  are  a  novice  to  the  style  of  composi- 
tion. 

Third.  You  may  be  mistaken  in  your  effects,  being 
a  novelist  by  trade,  and  not  a  play-writer. 

Fourthly.  Your  in  such  bad  helth  and  sperrits. 

Fifthly.  Your  so  afraid  of  the  critix,  that  they 
damp  your  arder. 

For  shame,  for  shame,  man!  What  confeshns  is 
these, — what  painful  pewling  and  piping!  Your  not 
a  babby.     I  take  you  to  be  some  seven  or  eight  and 


200  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

thutty  years  old — "  in  the  morning  of  youth,"  as  the 
flosofer  says.  Don't  let  any  such  nonsince  take  your 
reazn  prisoner.  "What  you,  an  old  hand  amongst  us, 
— an  old  soljer  of  our  sovring  quean  the  press, — you, 
who  have  had  the  hest  pay,  have  held  the  topmost 
rank  (ay,  and  deserved  them  too ! — I  gif  you  leaf  to 
quot  me  in  sasiaty,  and  say,  "I  am  a  man  of  genius'; 
Y-11-wpl-sh  says  so"), — you  to  lose  heart,  and  cry  pick- 
as  y,  ami  begin  to  howl,  because  little  boys  fling  stones 
at  you!  Fie,  man!  take  courage;  and,  bearing  the 
terrows  of  your  blood-red  hand,  as  the  poet  says,  pun- 
ish us,  if  we've  ofended  you,  punish  us  like  a  man,  or 
bear  your  own  punishment  like  a  man.  Don't  try 
to  come  off  with  such  misrabble  lodgic  as  that  above. 

What  do  you  ?  You  give  four  satisfackary  reazns 
that  the  play  is  bad  (the  secknd  is  naught, — for  your  no 
such  chicking  at  play-writing,  this  being  the  forth). 
You  shew  that  the  play  must  be  bad,  and  then  begin 
to  deal  with  the  eritix  for  finding  folt ! 

Was  there  ever  wuss  generalship  ?  The  play  is 
bad, — your  right, — a  wuss  I  never  see  or  read.  But 
why  kneed  you  say  so?  If  it  was  so  very  bad,  why 
publish  it .'  Because  you  wish  to  serve  the  drama!  O 
fie  !  don't  lay  that  flattering  function  to  your  sole,  as 
Milton  observes.  Do  you  believe  that  this  Sea  Cap- 
ting  <an  serve  the  drama?  Did  you  never  intend  that 
it  should  serve  any  thing,  or  any  body  else?  Of  cors 
you  did!  You  wrote  it  for  money, — money  from  the 
maniger,  money  from  the  bookseller, — for  the  same 
reason  that  I  write  this.  Sir,  Shakspeare  wrote  for  the 
very  Bame  reasons,  and  I  never  heard  that  he  bragged 
about   serving  the  drama.      Away    with    this   canting 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  201 

about  great  motifs !  Let  us  not  be  too  prowd,  my  dear 
Barnet,  and  fansy  ourselves  marters  of  the  truth,  mar- 
ten or  apostels.  We  are  but  tradesmen,  working  for 
lirt-ad,  and  not  for  righteousness' sake.  Let's  try  and 
work  honestly  ;  but  don't  let's  be  prayting  pompisly 
about  our  ';  sacred  calling."  The  taylor  who  makes 
your  coats  (and  very  well  they  are  made  too,  with  the 
best  of  velvit  collars) — I  say  Stulze,  or  Nugee,  might 
cry  out  that  their  motifs  were  but  to  assert  the  eturnle 
truth  of  tayloring,  with  just  as  much  reazn ;  and  who 
would  believe  them  ? 

Well ;  after  this  acknollitchmint  that  the  play  is 
bad,  come  sefral  pages  of  attack  on  the  critix,  and  the 
folt  those  gentry  have  found  with  it.  With  these  I 
shan't  middle  for  the  presnt.  You  defend  all  the 
characters  1  by  1,  and  conclude  your  remarks  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"  I  must  be  pardoned  for  this  disquisition  on  my  own,  de- 
signs. When  every  means  is  employed  to  misrepresent,  it  be- 
comes, perhaps,  allowable  to  explain.  And  if  I  do  not  think 
that  my  faults  as  a  dramatic  author  are  to  be  found  in  the 
study  and  delineation  of  character,  it  is  precisely  because  that 
is  the  point  on  which  all  my  previous  pursuits  in  literature  and 
actual  life  would  be  most  likely  to  preserve  me  from  the  errors 
I  own  elsewhere,  whether  of  niisjudgment  or  inexperience. 

"I  have  now  only  to  add  my  thanks  to  the  actors  for  the 
zeal  and  talent  with  which  they  have  embodied  the  characters 
intrusted  to  them.     The  swi  and  grace  with  which  Miss 

Faucit  embellished  the  pari  of  Violet,  which,  though  only  a 
sketch,  is  mosl  necessary  to  the  colouring  and  harmony  of  the 
play,  were  perhaps  the  more  pleasing  to  the  audience  from  the 
generosity,  rare  with  actors,  which  induced  her  to  take  a  part 
so  far  inferior  to  herpowere.  The  applause  which  attends  the 
performance  of  Mrs.  Warner  and  Mr.  Strickland  attests  their 
9* 


202  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


success  iu  characters  of  unusual  difficulty;  while  the  singular 
beauty  and  nobleness,  whether  of  conception  orexecution,  with 
which  the  greatest  of  living  actors  has  elevated  the  part  of 
Norman  (so  totally  different  from  his  ordinary  range  of  char- 
acter), is  a  new  proof  of  his  versatility  and  accomplishment  in 
all  that  belongs  to  his  art.  It  would  be  scarcely  gracious  to 
conclude  these  remarks  without  expressing  my  acknowledg- 
ment of  that  generous  and  indulgent  sense  of  justice  which, 
forgetting  all  political  differences  in  a  literary  arena,  has  ena- 
bled me  to  appeal  to  approving  audiences — from  hostile  crit- 
ics. And  it  is  this  which  alone  encourages  me  to  hope  that, 
•ooner  or  later,  I  may  add  to  the  dramatic  literature  of  my 
country  something  that  may  find,  perhaps,  almost  as  many 
friends  in  the  next  age  as  it  has  been  the  fate  of  the  author  to 
find  enemies  in  this." 

See,  now,  what  a  good  comfrabble  vanaty  is! 
Pepple  have  quarld  with  the  dramatic  characters  of 
pour  play.  "No,"  says  you;  "if  I  am  remarkabble 
for  anythink,  it's  for  my  study  and  delineation  of  char- 
wtSr;  that  is  presizely  the  pint  to  which  my  littery 
ourshuits  have  led  me."  Have  you  read  Jil  Blaw,  my 
dear  sir?  Have  you  pirouzed  that  exlent  tragady,  the 
Critic?  There's  something  so  like  this  in  Sir  PretftJ 
Plaguy,  and  the  Archbishop  of  Granadiers,  that  I'm 
Mest  if  I  can't  laff  till  my  sides  ake.  Think  of  the 
critix  fixing  on  the  very  pint  for  which  you  are  famus ! 
— the  roags !  And  spose  they  had  said  the  plot  was 
absudd,  or  the  languitch  absudder,  still,  don't  you 
think  you  would  have  had  a  word  in  defens  of  them 
too — you  who  hope  to  find  frendsfor  your  dramatic  wux 
m  the  nex  age?  Poo!  I  tell  thee,  Barnet,  thai  the  riex 
age  will  be  wiser  and  better  than  this;  and  do  you 
think  that  it  will  imply  itself  a  reading  of  your  traja 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  203 

dies  ?     This  is    misantrofy,  Barnet — reglar  Byronism ; 
and  you  ot  to  have  a  better  apinian  of  human  natur. 

Your  apinion  about  the  actors  I  shan't  here  middle 
with.  They  all  acted  exlently  as  far  as  my  humbile 
judgement  goes,  and  your  write  in  giving  them  all 
possbile  prays.  But  let's  consider  the  last  sentence  of 
the  prefiz,  my  dear  Barnet,  and  see  what  a  pretty  set 
of  apiniuns  you  lay  down. 

1.  The  critix  are  your  inymies  in  this  age. 

2.  In  the  nex,  however,  you  hope  to  find  newmrous 
frends. 

3.  And  it's  a  satisfackshn  to  think  that,  in  spite  of 
politticle  diffrances,  you  have  found  frendly  aujences 
here. 

Now,  my  dear  Barnet,  for  a  man  who  begins  so 
humbly  with  what  my  friend  Father  Prout  calls  an 
argamantum  ad  miser  korjam,  who  ignoledges  that  his 
play  is  bad,  that  his  pore  dear  helth  is  bad,  that  those 
cussid  critix  have  played  the  juice  with  him — I  say,  for 
a  man  who  beginns  in  such  a  humbill  toan,  it's  rayther 
rich  to  see  how  you  end. 

My  dear  Barnet,  do  you  suppose  that  politticle 
diffrances  prejudice  pepple  against  you  ?  What  are 
your  politix  ?  Wig,  I  presume — so  are  mine,  ontry  noo. 
And  what  if  they  are  Wig,  or  Raddiccle,  or  Cumsuv- 
vatire  ?  Does  any  mortial  man  in  England  care  a  phig 
for  your  politix?  Do  you  think  yourself  such  a  mity 
man  in  parlymint,  that  critix  are  to  be  angry  with  you, 
and  aujences  to  be  cumsidered  magnanamous  because 
they  treat  you  fairly  \  There,  now,  was  Sherridn,  he 
who  roat  the  Rifles  and  School  for  Scandle  (I  saw  the 
Rifles  after  your  play,  and,  O  Barnet,  if  you  knew  what 


204  THE    YELLOWPLLBH    PAPERS. 

a  relief  it  was  !) — there,  I  say,  was  Sherridn — he  was 
a  politticle  character,  if  you  please — he  could  make  a 
spitch  or  two — do  you  spose  that  Pitt,  Purseyvall,  Cas- 
flerag,  old  George  the  Third  himself,  wooden  go  to  se 
the  Rifles — ay,  and  clap  hands  too,  and  laff  and  ror, 
for  all  Sherry's  Wiggery?  Do  you  spose  the  critix 
wouldn't  applaud  too  ?  For  shame,  Barnet !  what 
ninnis,  what  hartless  raskles,  you  must  Deleave  them 
to  be, — in  the  fust  plase,  to  fancy  that  you  are  a  polit- 
ticle genius  ;  in  the  secknd,  to  let  your  politix  interfear 
with  their  notiums  about  your  littery  merits! 

"Put  that  nonsince  out  of  your  head,"  as  Fox 
said  to  Bonnypart.  Wasn't  it  that  great  genus, 
Dennis,  that  wrote  in  Swiff  and  Poop's  time,  Avho 
fansid  that  the  French  king  wooden  make  pease  unless 
Dennis  was  delivered  up  to  him  ?  Upon  my  wud,  I 
doant  think  he  carrid  his  diddlusion  much  futher  than 
a  serting  honrabble  barnet  of  my  acquentance. 

And,  then,  for  the  nex  age.  Bespected  sir,  this  is 
another  diddlusion ;  a  grose  misteak  on  your  part,  or 
my  name  is  not  Y — sh.  These  plays  immortial  ?  Ah, 
parry  sample,  as  the  French  say,  this  is  too  strong — the 
small-beer  of  the  Sea  Cf/jfinr/,  or  of  any  suxessor  of  the 
Sea  Capting  to  keep  sweet  for  sentries  and  sentries  '. 
Barnet,  Barnet !  do  you  know  the  natur  of  bear  ?  Six 
weeks  is  not  past,  and  here  your  last  casque  is  sour — 
the  public  won't  even  now  drink  it;  and  I  lav  a  wager 
that,  betwigst  this  day  (the  thuttfetb  November)  and  the 
end  of  the  year,  the  bar]  will  be  off  the  stox  altogether, 

r,  never  to  return. 

I  ve  notted  down  a  fe^  (razes  here  and  there,  which 
you  will  do  well  to  i;j;-amin  : — 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  205 

NORMAN. 

"Th"  eternal  Flora 
Woos  to  her  odorous  haunts  the  western  wind  ; 
"While  circling  round  and  upward  from  the  houghs, 
Golden  with  fruits  that  lure  the  joyous  bird", 
Melody,  like  a  happy  soul  released, 
Hangs  in  the  air,  and  from  invisible  plumes 
Shakes  sweetness  down  I" 

NORMAN. 

"  And  these  the  lips 
Where,  till  this  hour,  the  sad  and  ho  \   ki^s 
Of  parting  linger'd,  as  the  fragrance  left 
By  angels  when  they  touch  the  earth  and  vanish." 

NORMAN. 

"  Hark !  she  has  blessed  her  son  !      I  bid  ye  witness, 
Ye  listening  heavens — thou  circumambient  air : 
The  ocean  sighs  it  bach — and  with  the  murmur 
Rustle  the  happy  leaves.     All  nature  breathes 
Aloud — aloft — to  the  Great  Parent's  ear, 
The  blessing  of  the  mother  on  her  child." 

NORMAN". 

"  I  dream  of  love,  enduring  faith,  a  heart 
Mingled  with  mine — a  deathless  heritage, 
Which  I  can  take  unsullied  to  the  stars, 
When  the  Great  Father  calls  his  children  home." 

NORMAN. 


The  blue  air,  breathless  in  the  starry  peace, 
After  long  silence  hushed  as  heaven,  but  filled 
With  happy  thoughts  as  heaven  with  angels." 


NORMAN. 


e Till  one  calm  night,  when  over  earth  and  wave 
Heaven  looked  its  love  from  all  its  numberless  stars." 


206  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

NORMAN. 

"  Those  eyes,  the  guiding  stars  by  which  I  steered." 

NOKMAN. 

"  That  great  mother 
(The  only  parent  I  have  known),  whose  face 
Is  bright  with  gazing  ever  on  the  stars — 
The  mother-sea." 

NORMAN'. 

"  My  bark  shall  be  our  home ; 
The  stars  that  light  the  angel  palaces 
Of  air,  our  lamps." 

NORMAN. 

"  A  name  that  glitters,  like  a  star,  amidst 
The  galaxy  of  England's  loftiest  born." 

LADY    ARUNDEL. 

"  ADd  see  him  princeliest  of  the  lion  tribe, 
Whose  swords  and  coronals  gleam  around  the  throne, 
The  guardian  stars  of  the  imperial  isle." 

The  fust  spissymen  has  been  going  the  round  of  all 
the  papers,  as  real,  reglar  poatry.  Those  wiekid  critix  ! 
they  must  have  been  laffing  in  their  sleafs  when  they 
quoted  it.  Malody,  suckling  round  and  uppards  from 
the  bows,  like  a  happy  soul  released,  hangs  in  the  air, 
and  from  invizable  plumes  shakes  sweetness  down. 
Mighty  fine,  truly  !  but  let  mortial  man  tell  the  meanink 
of  the  p&ssidge.  Is  it  musickle  sweetniss  that  Malody 
shakes  down  from  its  plumes — its  wings,  that  is,  or  tail 
— or  souk;  pekewliar  scent  that  proceeds  from  happy 
souls   released,  and   which    they  shakp  down    from  the 


EP1STI.KS    TO    THE    LITERATI.  207 

trees  when  they  are  suckling  round  and  uppards!  R 
this  poatry,  Barnet?  Lay  your  hand  on  your  busm,  aifd 
speak  out  boldly  :  Is  it  poatry,  or  sheer  w  indy  humbugg, 
that  sounds  a  little  melojous,  and  won't  bear  the  com- 
tnanesi  test  of  comman  sence? 

In  passidge  number  2,  the  same  bisniss  is  going  on, 
though  in  a  more  comprehensable  way  :  the  air,  the 
Leaves,  the  otion,  are  Hid  with  emocean  at  Capting 
Norman's  happiness.  Pore  Nature  is  dragged  in  to 
partisapate  in  his  joys,  just  as  she  has  been  befor.  Once 
in  a  poem,  this  universle  simfithy  is  very  well ;  but  once 
is  enuff,  my  dear  Barnet :  and  that  once  should  be  in 
some  great  suckmstans,  surely, — such  as  the  meeting  of 
Adam  and  Eve,  in  Pardice  Lost,  or  Jewpeter  and 
Jewno,  in  Hoamer,  where  there  seems,  as  it  were,  a 
reasn  for  it.  But  sea-captings  should  not  be  eternly 
spowting  and  invoking  gods,  hevns,  starrs,  angels,  and 
other  silestial  influences.  We  can  all  do  it,  Barnet; 
nothing  in  life  is  esier.  I  can  compare  my  livry  buttons 
to  the  stars,  or  the  clouds  of  my  backopipe  to  the  dark 
vollums  that  ishew  from  Mount  Hetna ;  or  I  can  say 
that  angels  are  looking  down  from  them,  and  the  tobacco 
silf,  like  a  happy  sole  released,  is  circling  round  and 
upwards,  and  shaking  sweetness  down.  All  this  is  as 
csy  as  drink;  but  it's  not  poatry,  Barnet,  nor  natural. 
People,  when  their  mothers  reckonise  them,  don't  howl 
about  the  suckumambient  air,  and  paws  to  think  of  the 
happy  leaves  a  rustling — at  least,  one  mistrusts  them  if 
they  do.  Take  another  installs  out  of  your  own  play. 
Capting  Norman  (with  his  eternll  dock-jaw!)  meets  the 
gal  of  his  art : — 


208  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


"  Look  up,  look  up,  my  Violet — weeping  ?  fie ! 
And  trembling  too — yet  leaning  on  my  breast 
In  truth,  thou  art  too  soft  for  such  rude  shelter. 
Look  up !     I  come  to  woo  thee  to  the  seas, 
My  sailor's  bride  !     Hast  thou  no  voice  but  blushes? 
Nay — from  those  roses  let  me,  like  the  bee, 
Drag  forth  the  secret  sweetness !" 


»6 


VIOLET. 


"  Oh  what  thoughts 
Were  kept  for  speech  when  we  once  more  should  meet, 
Now  blotted  from  the  page ;  and  all  I  feel 
Is — thou  art  with  me!" 

Very  right,  Miss  Violet — the  scentiment  is  natral, 
affeckshnit,  pleasing,  simple  (it  might  have  been  in 
more  grammaticle  languidge,  and  no  harm  done) :  but 
never  mind,  the  feeling  is  pritty :  and  I  can  fancy,  my 
dear  Barnet,  a  pritty,  smiling,  weeping  lass,  looking  up 
in  a  man's  face  and  saying  it.  But  the  capting ! — O 
this  capting ! — this  windy,  spouting  capting,  with  his 
prittinesses,  and  conseated  apollogies  for  the  hardness  of 
his  busm,  and  his  old,  stale,  vapid  simalies,  and  his 
wishes  to  be  a  bee !  Pish  !  Men  don't  make  love  in  this 
finniking  way.  It's  the  part  of  a  sentymentle,  poeticle 
tavlor,  not  a  galliant  gentleman,  in  command  of  one  of 
her  madjisty's  vessels  of  war. 

Look  at  the  remaining  extrac,  honored  Barnet,  and 
acknollidge  that  Capting  Norman  is  eturnly  repeating 
himself,  with  his  endless  jabber,  about  stars  and  angels. 
Look  at  the  neat  grammaticle  twist  of  Lady  Arundel's 
spitch,  too,  who,  in  the  corse  of  three  lines,  has  made 
her  son  a  prince,  a  lion,  with  a  sword  and  coronal,  and 
a  star.     Why  jumble  and  shcak  up  matafors  in  this 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  209 

way?  Barnet,  one  simily  is  quite  enuff  in  the  best  of 
sentenses  (arid,  I  preshume,  I  kneedn't  tell  you  that  it's 
as  well  to  have  it  like,  when  you  are  about  it).  Take 
my  advise,  honrabble  sir — listen  to  a  humble  footniin  : 
it's  genrally  best  in  poatry  to  understand  puflfickly  what 
you  mean  yourself,  and  to  ingspress  your  meaning 
clearly  afterwoods — in  the  simpler  words  the  better, 
praps.  You  may,  for  instans,  call  a  coronet  a  coronal 
(an  "ancestral  coronal,"  p.  74),  if  you  like,  as  you  might 
call  a  hat  a  "swart  sombrero,"  "a  glossy  four-and-nine," 
"a  silken  helm,  to>  storm  impermeable,  and  lightsome 
as  the  breezy  gossamer ;"  but,  in  the  long  run,  it's  as 
well  to  call  it  a  hat.  It  is  a  hat ;  and  that  name  is 
quite  as  poetticle  as  another.  I  think  it's  Playto,  or 
els  Ilarrystottle,  who  observes  that  what  we  call  a  rose 
by  any  other  name  would  swell  as  sweet.  Confess,  now, 
dear  Barnet,  don't  you  long  to  call  it  a  Polyanthus  ? 

I  never  see  a  play  more  carelessly  written.  In  such 
a  hurry  you  seem  to  have  bean,  that  you  have  aetially 
in  some  sentences  forgot  to  put  in  the  sence.  What  is 
this,  for  instance  ? — 

"  This  thrice  precious  one 
Smiled  to  my  eyes — drew  being  from  my  breast — 
Slept  in  my  arms ; — the  very  tears  I  shed 
Above  my  treasure  were  to  men  and  angels 
Alike  such  holy  sweetness!" 

In  the  name  of  ah  the  angels  tbat  ever  you  invoked 
— Raphael,  Gabriel,  Uriel,  Zadkiel,  Azrael — what  does 
this  "  holy  sweetness"  mean  ?  We're  not  spinxes  to  read 
such  durkcoii;m<l  rums.  Ifyoukne^  my  state  sins  I  came 
upon  this  passidg — I've  neither  slep  nor  eton  ;  I've  neg- 


210  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

lected  my  pantry ;  I've  been  wandring  from  house  to 
house  with  this  riddl  in  my  hand,  and  nobody  can  under- 
stand it.  All  Mr.  Frazier's  men  are  wild,  looking  gloomy 
at  one  another,  and  asking  what  this  maybe.  All  the 
cumtributors  have  been  spoak  to.  The  Docter,  who  km  >\vs 
every  languitch,  has  tried  and  giv'n  up;  we've  sent  to 
Docter  Pettigruel,  who  reads  horyglifics  a  deal  ezier 
than  my  way  of  spellin' — no  anser.  Quick!  quick 
with  a  fifth  edition,  honored  Barnet,  and  set  us  at  rest ! 
While  your  about  it,  please,  too,  to  igsplain  the  two  last 
lines : — 

"  His  merry  bark  with  England's  flag  to  crown  her." 

See  what  dellexy  of  igspreshn,  "  a  flag  to  crown 
her !" 

"  His  merry  bark  with  England's  flag  to  crown  her, 
Fame  for  my  hopes,  and  woman  in  my  cares." 

Likewise  the  following : — 

"Girl,  beware 
The  love  that  trifles  bound  the  charms  it  gilds 
Oft  ruins  while  it  shines." 

Igsplane  this,  men  and  angels!  I've  tried  every 
vi  ay ;  backards,  forards,  and  in  all  sorts  of  tranceposi- 
tions,  as  thus : — 

The  love  that  ruins  round  the  charms  it  shines, 
Gilds  while  it  trifles  oft ; 


Or, 


The  charm  thai  gilds  around  the  love  it  ruins, 
Oft  trifles  while  it  shines ; 


Or, 


Or, 


Or, 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  211 


The  ruins  that  love  gilds  and  shines  around, 
Oft  trifles  while  it  charms; 


Love,  while  it  charms,  shines  round,  and  ruins  oft 
The  trifles  that  it  gilds ; 


The  love  that  trifles,  gilds  and  ruins  oft, 
"While  round  the  charms  it  shines. 

All  which  are  as  sensable  as  the  fust  passidge. 

And  with  this  I'll  alow  my  friend  Smith,  who  has 
been  silent  all  this  time,  to  say  a  few  words.  He  has 
not  written  near  so  much  as  me  (being  an  infearor 
genus,  betwigst  ourselves),  but  he  says  he  never  had 
such  mortial  diffieklty  with  any  thing  as  with  the  dix- 
cripshn  of  the  plott  of  your  pease.     Here  his  letter. 

To    Ch-rl-s    F-tzr-y    Pl-nt-g-n-t    Y-ll-wpl-sh, 
Esq.,    &c.    dbc. 

30th  Nov.  1839. 

My  dear  and  honoured  Sir, — I  have  the  pleasure  of 
laying  before  you  the  following  description  of  the  plot, 
and  a  few  remarks  upon  the  style  of  the  piece  called 
The   Sea   CajJtain. 

Five-and-twciity  years  back,  a  certain  Lord  Arundel 
had  a  daughter,  heiress  of  his  estates  and  property ;  a 
poor  cousin,  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  (being  next  in  succes- 
sion) ;  and  a  page,  Arthur  Le  Mesnil  by  name. 


212  THE    YELLOWPIASH    PAPERS. 


The  daughter  took  a  fancy  for  the  page,  and  the 
young  persons  were  married  unknown  to  his  lordship. 

Three  days  before  her  confinement  (thinking,  no 
doubt,  that  period  favourable  for  travelling),  the  young 
couple  had  agreed  to  run  away  together,  and  had 
reached  a  chapel  near  on  the  sea-coast,  from  which  they 
were  to  embark,  when  Lord  Arundel  abruptly  put  a 
stop  to  their  proceedings  by  causing  one  Gaussen,  a 
pirate,  to  murder  the  page. 

His  daughter  was  carried  back  to  Arundel  House, 
and,  in  three  days,  gave  birth  to  a  son.  Whether  his 
lordship  knew  of  this  birth  I  cannot  say ;  the  infant, 
however,  was  never  acknowledged,  but  carried  by  Sir 
Maurice  Beevor  to  a  priest,  Onslow  by  name,  who 
educated  the  lad  and  kept  him  for  twelve  years  in 
profound  ignorance  of  his  birth.  The  boy  went  by  the 
name  of  Norman. 

Lady  Arundel  meanwhile  married  again,  again 
became  a  widow,  but  had  a  second  son,  who  was  the 
acknowledged  heir,  and  called  Lord  Ashdale.  Old 
Lord  Arundel  died,  and  her  ladyship  became  countess 
in  her  own  right. 

When  Norman  was  about  twelve  years  of  age,  his 

mother,  who  wished  to  "  waft  young  Arthur  to  a  distant 

land,"  had  him  sent  on  board   ship.     Who  should  the 

captain  of  the  ship  be  but  Gaussen,  who  received  a 

smart  bribe  from  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  to  kill  the  lad. 

Accordingly,  Gaussen  tied  him  to  a  plank,  and  pitched 

him  overboard. 

***** 

About  thirteen  years  after  these  circumstances, 
Violet,  an  orphan  niece  of  Lady  Arundel's  >econd  hus- 


EPISTLES    10     I  m:    LITERATI.  213 

band,  came  t<»  pass  a  few  weeks  with  her  ladyship.  She 

had  just  come  from  a  sea-voyage,  and  had  been  saved 
from  a  wicked  Algerine  by  an  English  sea  captain. 
This  sea  captain  was  no  other  than  Norman,  who  had 
been  picked  up  oft'  his  plank,  and  fell  in  love  with,  and 
was  loved  by,  Miss  Violet. 

A  short  time  after  Violet's  arrival  at  her  aunt's  the 
captain  came  to  pay  her  a  visit,  his  ship  anchoring  off  the 
coast,  near  Lady  Arundel's  residence.  By  a  singular 
coincidence,  that  rogue  Gaussen's  ship  anchored  in  the 
harbour  too.  Gaussen  at  once  knew  his  man,  for  he 
had  "tracked"  him,  (after  drowning  him,)  and  he  in- 
formed Sir  Maurice  Beevor  that  young  Norman  was 
alive.  . 

Sir  Maurice  Beevor  informed  her  ladyship.  How 
should  she  get  rid  of  him?  In  this  wise.  He  was  in 
love  with  Violet,  let  him  marry  her  and  be  off;  for 
Lord  Ashdale  was  in  love  with  his  cousin  too ;  and,  of 
course,  could  not  marry  a  young  woman  in  her  station 
of  life.  "You  have  a  chaplain  on  board,"  says  her 
ladyship  to  Captain  Norman;  "let  him  attend  to-night 
in  the  ruined  chapel,  marry  Violet,  and  away  with  you 
to  sea."  By  this  means  she  hoped  to  be  quit  of  him 
for  ever. 

But,  unfortunately,  the  conversation  had  been  over- 
heard by  Beevor,  and  reported  to  Ashdale.  Ashdale 
determined  to  be  at  the  chapel  and  carry  off  Violet ;  as 
for  Beevor,  he  sent  Gaussen  to  the  chapel  to  kill  both 
Ashdale  and  Norman,  thus  there  would  only  be  Lady 
Arundel  between  him  and  the  title. 

Norman,  in  the  meanwhile,  who  had  been  walking 
near  the  chapel,  had  just  seen  his  worthy  old  friend,  the 


214  THE    VELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


priest,  most  barbarously  murdered  there.  Sir  Maurice 
Beevor  had  set  Gaussen  upon  hira;  his  reverence  was 
coming  with  the  papers  concerning  Norman's  birth, 
which  Beevor  wanted  in  order  to  extort  money  from  the 
countess.  Gaussen  was,  however,  obliged  to  run  before  he 
got  the  papers ;  and  the  clergyman  had  time,  before  he 
died,  to  tell  Norman  the  story,  and  give  him  the  docu- 
ments with  which  Norman  sped  off  to  the  castle  to  have 
an  interview  with  his  mother. 

He  lavs  his  white  cloak  and  hat  on  the  table,  and 
begs  to  be  left  alone  with  her  ladyship.  Lord  Ashdale, 
who  is  in  the  room,  surlily  quits  it ;  but,  going  out 
cunningly,  puts  on  Norman's  cloak.  "  It  will  be  dark," 
says  he,  "down  at  the  chapel ;  Violet  won't  know  me; 
and,  egad  !  I'll  run  off  with  her !" 

Norman  has  his  interview.  Her  ladyship  acknow- 
ledges him,  for  she  cannot  help  it ;  but  will  not  embrace 
him,  love  him,  or  have  anything  to  do  with  him. 

Away  he  goes  to  the  chapel.  His  chaplain  was 
there  waiting  to  many  him  to  Violet,  his  boat  was  there 
to  carry  him  on  board  his  ship,  and  Violet  was  there,  too. 

"  Norman,"  says  she,  in  the  dark,  "  dear  Norman,  I 
knew  you  by  your  white  cloak ;  here  I  am."  And  she  and 
the  man  in  a  cloak  go  off  to  the  inner  chapel  to  be  married. 

There  waits  Master  Gaussen  ;  he  has  seized  the 
chaplain  and  the  boat's  crew,  and  is  just  about  to 
n   lrder  the  man  in  the  cloak,  when — 

Norman  rushes  in  and  cuts  him  down,  much  to  the 
surprise  of  Miss,  for  she  never  -n-pected  it  was  sly  Ash- 
dale who  had  come,  as  we  have  seen,  disguised,  and 
very  nearly  paid  for  his  masquerading. 

Ashdale  is   very  grateful  ;  but,  when  Norman  per- 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  '215 

gists  in  marrying  Violet,  lie  says — no,  he  shan't.  He 
.shall  fight;  he  is  a  coward  if  he  doesn't  light.  Norman 
flings  down  his  sword,  and  says  he  won't  fight;  and — 

Lady  Arundel,  who  lias  been  at  prayers  all  this 
time,  rushing  in,  says,  "Hold!  this  is  your  brother, 
Percy — your  elder  brother!"  Here  is  some  restiveness 
on  Ashdale's  part,  but  he  finishes  by  embracing  his 
brother. 

Norman  burns  all  the  papers;  vows  he  will  "never 
peach  ;  reconciles  himself  with  his  mother  ;  says  he  will 
go  loser ;  but,  having  ordered  his  ship  to  "  veer  "  round 
to  the  chapel,  orders  it  to  veer  back  again,  for  he  will 
pass  the  honeymoon  at  Arundel  Castle. 

As  you  have  been  pleased  to  ask  my  opinion,  it 
strikes  me  that  there  are  one  or  two  very  good  notions 
in  this  plot.  But  the  author  does  not  fail,  as  lie  would 
modestly  have  us  believe,  from  ignorance  of  stage-busi- 
ness ;  he  seems  to  know  too  much,  rather  than  too  little, 
about  the  6tage,  to  be  too  anxious  to  cram  in  effects,  inci- 
dents, perplexities.  There  is  the  perplexity  concerning 
Ashdale's  murder,  and  Norman's  murder,  and  the 
priest's  murder,  and  the  page's  murder,  and  Gaussen's 
murder.  There  is  the  perplexity  about  the  papers, 
and  that  about  the  hat  and  cloak,  (a  silly,  foolish 
obstacle,)  which  only  tantalize  the  spectator,  and  re- 
tard the  march  of  the  drama's  action  ;  it  is  as  if  the 
author  had  said,  "  I  must  have  a  new  incident  in  even- 
act,  I  must  keep  tickling  the  spectator  perpetually,  and 
never  let  him  off  until  the  fall  of  the  curtain. 

The  same  disagreeable  busjtle  and  petty  complication 
of  intrigue  you  may  remark  in  the  author's  drama  of 
Richelieu,      The  Lady  of  Lyons  vr as  a  much  simpler  and 


216  THE  YKLLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


better-wrought  plot.  The  incidents  following  each  other 
either  not  too  swiftly  or  startlingly.  In  Richelieu,  it  al- 
ways seemed  to  me  as  if  one  heard  doors  perpetually 
clapping  and  banging ;  one  was  puzzled  to  follow  the 
train  of  conversation,  in  the  midst  of  the  perpetual 
small  noises  that  distracted  one  right  and  left. 

Nor  is  the  list  of  characters  of  The  Sea  Captain  to 
be  despised.  The  outlines  of  all  of  them  are  good.  A 
mother,  for  whom  one  feels  a  proper  tragic  mixture  of 
hatred  and  pity  ;  a  gallant  single-hearted  son,  whom  she 
disdains,  and  who  conquers  her  at  last  by  his  noble  con- 
duct ;  a  dashing,  haughty  Tybalt  of  a  brother ;  a  wicked 
poor  cousin,  a  pretty  maid,  and  a  fierce  buccanier. 
These  people  might  pass  three  hours  very  well  on  the 
si  age,  and  interest  the  audience  hugely;  but  the  author 
fails  in  filling  up  the  outlines.  His  language  is  absurdly 
stilted,  frequently  careless  ;  the  reader  or  spectator  hears 
a  number  of  loud  speeches,  but  scarce  a  dozen  lines  that 
seem  to  belong  of  nature  to  the  speakers. 

Nothing  can  be  more  fulsome  or  loathsome  to  my 
mind  than  the  continual  sham-religious  clap-traps  which 
the  author  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  his  hero ;  noth- 
ing more  unsailor-like  than  his  namby-pamby  starlit 
descriptions,  which  my  ingenious  colleague  has,  I  see, 
alluded  to.  "  Thy  faith  my  anchor,  and  thine  eyes  my 
haven,"  cries  the  gallant  captain  to  his  lady.  See  how 
loosely  the  sentence  is  constructed,  like  a  thousand  others 
in  the  book.  The  captain  is  to  cast  anchor  with  the 
girl's  faith  in  her  own  eyes  ;  either  image  might  pass  by 
itself,  but  together,  like  the  quadrupeds  of  Kilkenny, 
they  devour  each  other.  The  captain  tells  his  lieuten- 
ant to  bill  lis  bar/,-  r/cr  round  to  a  point  in  the  harbour. 


epistx.es  to  the  literati.  21*7 

Was  ever  such  language  ?  My  lady  gives  Sir  Maurice  a 
thousand  pounds  to  waft  him  (her  son)  to  some  distant 
shore.  Nonsense,  sheer  nonsense  ;  and,  what  is  worse, 
affected  nonsense ! 

Look  at  the  comedy  of  the  poor  cousin.  "  There  is 
a  great  deal  of  game  on  the  estate — partridges,  hares, 
wild-geese,  snipes,  and  plovers  {smacking  his  lips) — be- 
sides a  magnificent  preserve  of  sparrows,  which  I  can 
sell  to  the  little  blackguards  in  the  streets  at  a  penny  a 
hundred.    But  I  am  very  poor — a  very  poor  old  knight." 

Is  this  wit,  or  nature  ?  It  is  a  kind  of  sham  wit ;  it 
reads  as  if  it  were  wit,  but  it  is  not.  What  poor,  poor 
stuff,  about  the  little  blackguard  boys !  what  flimsy 
ecstasies  and  silly  "  smacking  of  lips  "  about  the  "  plo- 
vers !"  Is  this  the  man  who  writes  for  the  next  a^e? 
O  fie  !     Here  is  another  joke  : — 

"  Sir  Maurice.     Mice !  zounds,  how  can  I 
Keep  mice!     I  can't  afford  it !    They  were  starved 
To  death  an  age  ago.     The  last  was  found, 
Come  Christinas  three  years,  stretched  beside  a  bone 
In  that  same  larder,  so  consumed  and  worn 
By  pious  fast,  'twas  awful  to  behold  it ! 
I  canonized  its  corpse  in  spirits  of  wine, 
And  set  it  in  the  porch — a  solemn  warning 
To  thieves  and  beggars !" 

Is  not  this  rare  wit  ?  "  Zounds  !  how  can  I  keep 
mice  ?"  is  well  enough  for  a  miser ;  not  too  new,  or 
brilliant  either;  but  this  miserable  dilution  of  a  thin 
joke,  this  wretched  hunting  down  of  the  poor  mouse! 
It  is  humiliating  to  think  of  a  man  of  esprit  harping  so 
Ions  <>n   such  a  mean,  pitiful  string;.     A  man  who  as- 

id 


218  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

pires  to  immortality,  too  !  I  doubt  whether  it  is  to  be 
gained  thus ;  whether  our  author's  words  are  not  too 
loosely  built  to  make  "  starry  pointing  pyramids  of."  Hor- 
ace clipped  and  squared  his  blocks  more  carefully  be 
fore  he  laid  the  monument  which,  imber  edax,  or  Aquila 
impotens,  or  fur/a  temporum,  might  assail  in  vain.  Even 
old  Ovid,  when  he  raised  his  stately,  shining  heathen 
temple,  had  placed  some  columns  in  it,  and  hewn  out  a 
statue  or  two  which  deserved  the  immortality  that  he 
prophesied  (somewhat  arrogantly)  for  himself.  But  let 
not  all  be  looking  forward  to  a  future,  and  fancying  that. 
"  incerti  spatium  dum  jiniat  avi,"  our  books  are  to  be 
immortal.  Alas  !  the  way  to  immortality  is  not  so 
easy,  nor  will  our  Sea  Captain  be  permitted  such  an 
unconscionable  cruise.  If  all  the  immortalities  were  really 
to  have  their  wish,  what  a  work  would  our  descendants 
have  to  study  them  all  ! 

Not  yet,  in  my  humble  opinion,  has  the  honourable 
baronet  achieved  this  deathless  consummation.  There 
will  come  a  day  (may  it  be  long  distant !)  when  the  very 
best  of  his  novels  will  be  forgotten  ;  and  it  is  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  his  dramas  will  pass  out  of  existence, 
some  time  or  other,  in  the  lapse  of  the  ami  la  arculorum. 
In  the  mean  time,  my  dear  Plush,  if  you  ask  me  what 
the  jrreat  obstacle  is  towards  the  dramatic  fame  and 
merit  of  our  friend,  I  would  say  that  it  does  not  lie  so 
much  in  hostile  critics  or  feeble  health,  as  in  a  careless 
habit  of  writing,  and  a  peevish  vanity  which  causes  him 
to  shut  his  eyes  to  his  faults.  The  question  of  original 
capacity  I  will  not  moot;  one  may  think  very  highly 
of  the  honourable  baronet's  talent,  without  rating  it 
quite  so  high  a<  1k<  seems  disposed  to  do. 


EPISTLES    in     I  UK    LITERATI.  219 

And  to  conclude :  as  he  has  chosen  to  combat  the 
critics  in  person,  the  critics  are  surely  justified  in  being 
allowed  to  address  him  directly. 

With  best  compliments  to  Mr.  Yellowplush, 
I  have  the  honour  to  be,  dear  Sir, 
Your  most  faithful  and  obliged 
humble  servant, 

John  Thomas  Smith. 

And  now,  Smith  having  finisht  his  letter,  1  think  I 
can't  do  better  than  clothes  mine  lickwise ;  for  though 
I  should  never  be  tired  of  talking,  praps  the  public  may 
of  hearing,  and  therefore  it's  best  to  shut  up  shopp. 

What  I've  said,  respected  Barnit,  I  hoap  you  woan't 
take  unkind.  A  play,  you  see,  is  public  property  for 
every  one  to  say  his  say  on;  and  I  think,  if  you  read 
your  prefez  over  agin,  you'll  see  that  it  ax  as  a  direct 
incouridsrernint  to  us  critix  to  come  forrard  and  notice 
you.  But  don't  fansy,  I  besitch  you,  that  we  are  actia- 
ted  by  hostillaty  ;  fust  write  a  good  play,  and  you'll  see 
we'll  prays  if  fast  enuff.  Waiting  which,  Agray,  Muti- 
neer le  Chevaleer,  Vashurance  de  ma  hot  cumsideratun. 

Voter  distangy, 
Y. 


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picturesque  panorama  of  startling  events,  the  other  as  a  subtle  investigation 
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THE  MAIDEN  AND  MARRIED  LIFE  OF 
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Price  Fifty  Cents 

'•A  reproduction  "in  their  manners  as  they  lived"  of  John  Milton  and 
his  young  bride,  of  whom  the  anecdote  of  their  separation  and  reconcilia- 
tion is  told  in  Dr.  Johnson's  biography  of  the  poet  The  narrative  is  in  the 
style  of  the  period  as  the  Diary  of  Lady  Willoughby  is  written,  and  is  re- 
markable for  its  feminine  grace  and  character— and  the  interest  of  real  life 
artistically  disposed:  a  book  for  the  selected  shelf  of  the  lady's  boudoir  in 
its  touches  of  nature  and  sentiment  no  less  than  as  a  study  of  one  of  Eng- 
land's greatest  poets  "at  home" 

ENGLISH   NOTICES. 

"This  is  a  charming  book  ;  and  whether  we  regard  its  subject,  clever- 
ness or  delicacy  of  sentiment  and  expression,  it  is  likely  to  be  a  most  ac- 
ceptable present  to  yonng  or  old,  be  their  peculiar  taste  for  religion,  morals, 
-joetry,  history,  or  romance."—  Christian  Observer. 

"  Unquestionably  the  production  of  an  able  hand,  and  a  refined  mind. 
We  recommend  it  to  all  who  love  pore,  healthy  literary  fare."—  Chvrch 
and  State  (;<i~.ette. 

"  lull  of  incident  and  character,  and  exceedingly  delightful  in  its  happy 
sketching  and  freshness  of  feeling.    It  Is  by  far  the  best  work  of  the  small 
»nd  novel  class  to  which  it  belongs,  a  mixture  of  truth  and  fiction  in  a  form 
*hlcb   belongs  to  the  fictitious  more  than  to  the  substantial  CO      • 
.v  •/.■,, ,/;,, 

"The  odd  history  of  Milton's  first  marriage— the  desertion  i  I 
U  'I  her  subsequent  terror  when  she  heard  that  he  was  just  the  man  to  put 

1  those  chap- 

rl 


AHVl.lM  [SEMEN  rs. 


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AX   INVASION*   OF    FRANCE. 

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